Fenrir: The Rise of the Wolf
by kujikiri21
Summary: Plans within plans. Wheels within wheels. These were the thoughts and actions of Kronos. A direct assault on Olympus wasn't his only plan. He had contingencies. Unfortunately for him, one particular back-up plan had slipped it's leash some time ago. Now Olympus will see the results of this project. Will it be an enemy or an ally? With the Giants rising, they can only hope.
1. Chapter 1

**Fenrir**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Harry Potter**

**Prologue: The Fall of the North**

"Are you sure this is wise?" A matronly woman said, her long red hair streaming in the ocean breeze as she sat upon the rocks, her feet still in the water and a concerned smile on her beautiful face, "the members of the Council are not the most compassionate." Her face pursed and her green eyes narrowed in a frown, possibly at a remembered slight. "The King, himself, is arguably the most paranoid being on the face of the planet. Knowing _his_ origins, and yours, he may just destroy you out of hand, just because of the possible threat that you and he could become. Many of his children and siblings are no better."

"We have no choice," answered the soft voice of a young girl, a voice that seemed to draw in all that heard it, from where she sat on the sandy beach. The girl looked be in her early teens in age, or just below, with long black hair and bright blue eyes. Barefoot and clad only in a simple white dress, she leant against a large furry mound, bigger than a car. A mound that seemed to expand and contract, as if breathing.

"He is getting worse," the girl continued softly, her eyes downcast and sorrowful, "he sleeps almost all the time now, rising only to eat. Even then he is in pain." Those eyes showed empathy, almost in tears, "He _needs_ the acknowledgement if he is to live, or even just to _survive_." Blue eyes turned hateful and enraged. "Damn him! Damn that cold hearted piece of offal for doing this!"

"Calm yourself, Melody," the red haired woman spoke sharply, her voice snapping out, "put aside your anger. It will serve neither yourself nor my youngest son well for to dwell on it." The scarlet tresses lady sighed slightly while her own eyes flashed with a degree of protective malice, with the feelings of a vengeful mother who's child has been harmed. "There is nothing you can do about that Northern bastard, not now. Focus on what you _can_ do, on what is most precious to you."

The blue haired child closed her eyes, reining in her burning emotions, and took some deep breaths as she quelled the thoughts of vengeance and blood lust she had for the damned being who had been the cause for a great deal of her misery.

A soft snuffling at her ear made her crack open her eyes, a small grin lighting her face like the sun as she met the golden lupine orbs, each of them the size of her fist, of what her mentor called 'her pet', often with a shake of her crimson hair in disbelief.

"I'm fine, Sandy," she murmured, rubbing her hand just behind the massive head of the wolf that she had been lying against, making the wolf rumble lowly in pleasure, eyes closing in pleasure, more of a massive house pet than the ferocious being it once had been, and still was when it concerned the safety of the young girl.

The crimson haired beauty laughed slightly in bemusement. "I still can't believe you managed to tame that one." She shook her head briefly. "Even I wasn't able to control the old beast. I had to resort to the King's solution and turn it to stone."

"You just have to know how to calm him," Melody smirked back, humming a low tune as she scratched her animal companion's sweet spot, much to his pleasure. "Besides," the smirk fell to a slightly sullen and bitter look, "I have had plenty of practice in 'quelling a savage beast'." She practically bit out the last words, glancing over to the side, the eyes of the crimson woman also following, her green eyes sorrowful.

Both woman's eyes rested on a sleeping figure seated on the sand and leaning his back against a tall rock. A boy who was more of a man, the mind older than the elder teen body he possessed. His face was unseen, hidden behind a white ceramic mask, and had inky black hair, like darkness and shadow and the night, untidily seated atop his skull. He was dressed completely in black, the colour only broken up by strips of what looked to be dull grey. Thick leather boots, tight leggings that would nonetheless gave him complete freedom of movement if needed, while a tight long sleeved shirt, that clung to his abdomen like a second skin, revealing the well defined abs for those who looked, with an upturned collar and scribe's gloves adorned his torso and arms. The only skin that could be seen was on the tips of his fingers.

For all the that the young man seemed at rest and peace, each woman was fully aware of the truth behind that false facade, of the tortured soul that dwelled within the shell of blood and bone and flesh.

The crimson haired woman frowned, looking away from the young man and glancing toward the early afternoon sun, it's glare doing just as little to affect her as the cold December wind did. "You best leave now," she suggested, reluctantly, to the clearly younger woman, making her blue eyes look toward her, "if you don't, you run the risk of missing the Winter Solstice meeting at Camp Half-Blood."

"...weren't you just warning me about going through with this audacious plan?" Questioned Melody, even as she went about preparing for the journey, grabbing a large backpack that had been resting beside her and flicking it on with the ease of long practice as she rose to her feet, stretching lightly to prepare her body for the journey to come.

Sandy, the massive wolf, recognising that something was happening, also heaved itself onto his paws, his jaws gaping in a canine yawn wide enough to devour a whole ham roast in a single bite and then some.

"Audacious, it may be," admitted the crimson haired woman as she strode over to the reposing young man, some one she saw as her own son to the point that she had given her own ichor and blood to him, just to keep him alive for a bit longer. Unfortunately, even as it had done that, the transfer had also had unforeseen side effects.

Truly, no good deed goes unpunished. Curse the Fates for their trickery and manipulation.

She gently reached out and cupped the cold glazed ceramic of her son's mask, a gentle thumb stroking the impossibly smooth cheek, memories of him during his better days filling her mind with both joy, happiness and bitterness.

"But it is a plan that may work, will work, if you succeed," the woman said to the young girl, not turning her head to address her and instead keeping her eyes on her son, burning this memory into her mind. This could be the last time she saw him alive. She never wanted to forget her dear child, just as she never forget her precious other, more famed, child.

But she didn't want this one to fall the same way her other had, wounded unto death due to a god's temper at one of their defiled sanctuaries or be the victim of the Olympian King's paranoia.

But only two deities had the power to help him now. She could only hope that they would do so.

"Awaken, my child," she whispered into the pale shell of her son's ear as she leant forward, her feet never leaving the sand wet and soaked with the water of the ocean, unable to step outside the sea's influence.

Eyes snapped open behind the mask, bestial green slitted eyes glaring out through the eyeholes, both of them lacking the light in them that was common to all of humanity, even as no other muscle moved. The man instinctively knew how to awaken without giving away his surprise, lest the become prey instead of the predator and the predator, the prey.

They instantly softened as they met similar, yet not identical, ones. Where his were the colour of emerald, of the plains of grass and the leaves of the forest, hers were the ocean with their stormy depths.

"It is time to leave, my child," she said, removing the hand that had caressed his mask, her face resigned. She knew that this had to be done.

The young man rumbled in his throat, a wordless sound of comfort and reassurance, as he rose to his feet, ignoring the dull throb of pain that was constantly with him these days, towering over the woman by a good head despite that she was no short woman herself. He could sense in his primal mind, a mind distorted but not broken, different but not insane, the worry in the female, someone who had cared for him.

He gently dipped his head down, turning it to the side to gently run his ceramic cheek in her head-fur, a gesture of reassurance and understanding that could be understood by any being of any nature.

"Grrrrrrr," he growled lowly, trying to convey what he felt to the female, to let her know that the hunt would be successful, that prey would be brought to the den to feed the young. It was the closest thing he could say that would be interpreted correctly.

A loud whistle made him turn his head toward the source, his eyes locking onto his pack-sister seated upon one of his pack-brothers, one that was partial to his sister. He nodded slightly as his eyes met the golden orbs of the large canine, his body shifting subtly and making a low noise as he communicated with his pack-brother.

'_Well-met, brother. Why do you have our little sister atop of you?_' He 'spoke' to the large wolf.

'_Well-met, brother._' The large lupine replied in the same fashion, '_We travel from one place to another and it most be done swiftly._' A tongue larger than a rolling pin lolled out in a wordless laugh, '_one's sister is not one for swiftness. She will borrow mine instead.'_

He grunted. His pack-brother spoke the truth. He gently disengaged from the female and walked to stand at the side of his pack-brother at his pack-sister's insistence. She could be rather demanding when she wanted to.

"Alright, Sandy," his pack-sister said with a soft pat of his pack-brother, "Let's go!"

'_Follow me, brother,_' his pack-brother said before leaping forward and sprinting off into the woods behind the beach, his speed naught but a blur to most eyes and the laughter of his pack-sister dancing in the cold wind. The masked young man glanced back the softly smiling face of the she that smelt of the sea, storms and fire, along with what he thought his hand-fangs would smell like if they were burnt.

With a short nod to her, he sprinted after the rest of his pack, becoming a shadow across the landscape as he ran.

The crimson haired woman smiled after her son. He may not have given birth to him, nor did the other being who was, in the eyes of the world, seen as his mother, but she loved him as one nonetheless. She hoped that everything would turn out well.

She had given Melody all that she could so that she could succeed. The proper forms in speech and actions to take like a courtier of old, princely gifts that would, at the very least, have the Council grant the dark haired girl an audience. Even the fact that the blue eyed girl interacted with her would also get a great deal of credence and favour from the Olympians.

She had done many of those seated on the Council favours in the past. Zeus, Hephaestus, Dionysus, Poseidon, Hera...she had links to them all and they looked upon her with favour, even if the relationships between her and some of them had suffered a few set backs over the years, even if the results of that slight had eventually been seen as a blessing to her after a time.

Yet none among those were the deities she truly hoped Melody would be able to sway.

She hoped that it would be enough to halt the destructive hands of the youngest son of Kronos.

She hoped.

With a last sigh, the crimson haired woman glowed slightly before vanishing completely, only the scent of a fresh sea breeze, barely indistinguishable from the winds already blowing, left in her wake, as she returned to the court of Atlantis to lead her forty-nine sisters once more.

* * *

><p>"Let them go!" Roared Perseus as he slammed Riptide against the translucent grey barrier again, a motion echoed, surprisingly, by an enraged, and taller, daughter of Themis, her grey eyes narrowed in a frightening glare that her children were known for as her own spear struck home.<p>

Only to do nothing, the barrier never even wavering under the assault of both the goddess and the half-blood.

The man -no, the _monster_- behind the barrier only laughed mockingly from his grand throne of frost and rime, delicate chains of the arctic element extending from each of the arm rests to wrap themselves around the cause of Percy's and Athena's fury.

Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena and beloved of Percy Jackson, lay on her hands and knees in chains of obsidian hoarfrost, her head forcibly bowed towards her captor by a cold black collar. As if that weren't insulting enough to the enraged pair, she had been stripped of her clothing, wearing only a simple hanging strip of bleached cloth tied to a string belt that barely covered her privates and left her behind on display to those outside of the barrier, a lewd taunt at their impotence. Her chest and breasts were exposed, hanging freely down due to the mongrel's stance she was forced to take and her bare back was used by her enthroned captor as a mere footstool, the cold being casually resting a single large booted foot on her tanned skin, with all the ease of a man parked on his own couch and watching a game.

It was disgusting. It was humiliating. It was completely beyond the pale. It only enraged the girl's mother and boyfriend further. To see their precious person reduced to such a state. Their minds were filled the fires of vengeance and bloodlust. They had also noticed the swollen and darkening flesh of Annabeth's cheek, the welts and weals on her back and the terrifyingly blank look on her abused face.

Fury gave way to rage.

And the situation only got worse.

Muffled snarls of rage and stifled curses could be heard coming from the second captive, a girl with black spiky hair and the ruins of silver clothing, as she was also wrapped in chains, looking more like frozen rope, as it was coiled around her, binding her arms and legs tightly to her body, not letting her be able to move. Sparks of the sky's wrath leapt from her eyes as she tried to glare at the callously laughing being on his throne, giving voice to her curses the only way she could as her mouth was gagged with a large red ball and strapped to her head, not allowing it to be forced out.

Even as this struggling captive, a daughter of Zeus and Hunter of Artemis, tried to wriggle free, a massive sandalled foot, larger than a couple of skateboards, slammed down on her back, pinning her to the earth and making winding her heavily, her breath escaping with a wheeze through the gag, accompanied by several wet cracks.

The eyes of Zeus and Artemis were cold and furious as they heard the snapping of Thalia Grace's ribs, as they joined the two already enraged at the barrier, the half-blood and the Goddess of Wisdom taking a breath and stopping, the futility of their actions finally hitting home through the cloud of anger that had suffused them.

"Stop wriggling, worm," spat the throned monster's companion, "I will have my fun with you soon enough."

Thalia glared out of the corner of her eyes, fighting through the pain and agony she had gone through, at the one who had stomped on her. A massive male, towering a good twenty feet, with dark brown skin, the colour of earth and dust, with straight black hair that reached the tops of his massive and broad shoulders. His yellow eyes, filled with a lust that filled the half-blood daughter of Zeus with both disgust and fear, leered down at her from his, admittedly, comely face as he stroked his goatee. He wore a massive crimson cloak that went from his shoulders to his ankles, yet left his chest and horribly scarred belly bare, held together at the throat with a simple golden clasp and clenched an immense spear and a circular bronze shield of equal proportions. His modesty was covered, much to her relief, by a battle skirt of Celestial Bronze studded leather.

If she was honest with herself, the bastard looked like an up sized version of Leonidas from 300. Though this prick was a whole lot more evil.

"Now, now, Tityos," the monster on his throne said with a small smile, one that Percy couldn't help but compare to Apollo's, almost tutting at the taller being, "that is no way to treat your sister."

"Shut it, Icy," spat back the now identified Tityos, a name Percy wasn't familiar with.

"That's _Lord_ Icy, brat." The monster said with a scowl, his ice blue eyes now set in a glare, one that Percy swore could have been cut and pasted onto Artemis' such was their similarity. The frigidity of the enthroned monster's eyes showed that the relationship between these two wasn't the best.

Tityos just snorted, turning his massive head away from 'Lord Icy'.

"Youth these days," sighed Icy, shaking his helmeted head, the ursine looking helm rattling slightly as he did so, "so disrespectful." His grin returned as he turned back towards the gathered Olympians and their brood as they stood collectively outside the impenetrable barrier, "but that can be rectified. A bit of 'School of Hard Knox' treatment and they will be perfectly amiable." He rattled the chain that bound the daughter of Athena as if to give evidence to his theory.

A low growl erupted from the throat of Perseus Jackson, his hand clenched tightly on the hilt of Riptide.

"You have some nerve coming here, Koios, and doing what you have done," rumbled the King of the Sky, his eyes glowing with the manfully suppressed power of the storms he commanded as he tried to not let his temper get the best of him.

Percy knew it was a losing battle. He could feel his own temper slipping, the intoxicating rage brought to the surface by his bathing in the Styx yanking at it's mental chains. And his own temper had nothing on the King's, even in this situation.

"When one is given orders, one does their level best to fulfill them," the Titan, as Percy now remembered, said with a moon faced smile that hid the malice underneath it. Malice that was equalled by the harsh grins of the minions, Laistrygonians and Hellhounds, that also surrounded him and his taller companion, slashes of feral smiles on their muzzles and faces.

Percy snorted bitterly. The cold bastard certainly had 'done his level best'. They never even saw him coming.

The Gods had been in the middle of a quarrel, one that always seemed to break out when Solstice meetings were held. Normally, this wouldn't have been a problem as their normal venue, Olympus, was a relative fortress, especially with all the Gods in attendance and at their full power when they were seated on their Thrones.

But with Olympus being repaired, the Gods had decided to hold their Solstice meeting at Camp, a less defensible location.

Part of the decision was partly out of necessity, the clean up of their home above the clouds still happening, and partly out of good will. The good will came from the fact that one of the leading causes for the Second Titanomachy being the distance between divine parent and mortal child. It was hoped that holding the meeting in Camp would bring them closer together, to trust each other more than they had, and hopefully prevent another case like Castellan's from developing again, while also staying within the boundaries of the Ancient Laws.

It was a good idea, as far as it went, and one Percy supported wholly.

But none of them truly suspected for Camp to be attacked during it.

Well, actually, attacked might have been a strong word. It implied a large force attacking the entire establishment and destroying any and all who dwelled there.

Infiltrated might have been a better description of how it went.

A small force of monsters, a mixed bag of Dracanae, Empousa, Laistrygonian's and a single Drakon, had pretty much sprung out of nowhere in the middle of the Camp and the Meeting, causing chaos and confusion as they all quickly acted, Camper and Deity coming to arms in mere moments, the most recent war fresh in their minds and reflexes.

Even at they met this summoned force, it proved to only be a distraction as the real foes moved with surgical precision for their targets, cutting through the chaos like a hot knife through butter, isolating them from their comrades, and then the Stygian armoured Koios had let loose with a shock wave that had sent his allies and enemies alike tumbling before swiftly setting up a barrier that none were able to penetrate or pass.

Percy snarled lowly to himself. He should have seen this coming. Annabeth had supposedly come down with an illness the day before, a little bug that sometimes affected Half-bloods and was resistant to the healing effects of ambrosia and nectar, and had to ride it out. Unfortuneately, it was also a very contagious little sickness and thus strict quarantine had been enforced, meaning that the son of Poseidon was forced to stay away and thus no one had known that the illness was a fake devised by the Titan to isolate the daughter of Athena so as to easily abduct her without any being the wiser, until the bastard had appeared on his throne.

The battle, if it could even be called that as it was over in minutes, had also allowed Koios to grab the last two hostages he needed for whatever foul plan he was thinking up or was already following.

Thalia Grace, daughter of Zeus and thus someone who would stay the hand of the Thunderer, not desiring his half-blood daughter to come to further harm.

And Hestia, the Goddess of the Hearth, the Oldest Child of Kronos and Rhea, the peaceful and pacifistic Last Olympian and the only one amongst them that no Olympian or half-blood would dare to raise a hand to.

Percy growled lowly again as he watched the miserable spectacle of Hestia, a good friend he often tried to talk to now that he knew who and what she was, who often gave him good advice and made for a good sounding board for the problems he often encountered, chained and trussed up with icy manacles on her neck, wrists and ankles, the cold links leading to an armrest, next to Koios' throne, her powers evidently helpless. She was no longer in her favoured form of an eight year old, nor clad in the concealing robe of brown cloth, nor did her flaming eyes show comfort and ease.

A mature young woman, possibly in her early twenties, stood there now, with curly brown hair and soft milky skin. Her eyes were mere embers compared to what they should have been, hope itself being banked in the cooling coals. Her body was buxom and svelte, shown to all with the attire she had been forcibly adorned with, a mirror of Annabeth's. Her breasts were completely bare to all and the Goddess's cheeks were flushed with humiliation and anger and the tight chains forced out her chest, presenting an unwillingly lewd display, and prevented her from covering up her chest with her hands in order to retain the little modesty she had been allowed.

It was a sight for many a lecherous eye, or at least would have been if the owner's of said eyes didn't have the respect they did for Hestia. The fact that it was also forcibly done to her, a peaceful maiden goddess, also quelled any arousal that any of them might have had and instead stoked the flames of anger and rage.

In short, the cold hearted bastard had the Olympians and half-bloods alike by the balls. They couldn't just break through the barrier, as the force required to do so, according to the Gods, would endanger those that were within it, possibly killing them, immortal or not, which included a Goddess dear to many of the Council's hearts, the beloved of an extremely powerful demigod who's flaw was personal loyalty and thus wouldn't risk the girl coming to harm, and the half-blood daughter of Zeus who was dear to the heart of the most paranoid and destructive of deities thus preventing the King of Olympus from doing something...precipitous.

It was times like these, seemingly hopeless and filled with only bad choices all around, that Percy Jackson really hated being a half-blood.

"Ordered? _You_?" Ares said incredulously, as if unbelieving at the statement. In an intriguing turn of events, Ares was the calmest among the Olympians. He didn't care overly much for the current captives, even his aunt (a fact that he was going to keep deeply secret. His father was nothing if not protective of his eldest sister.) and thus wasn't really affected by any anger except his own natural aggressiveness.

It said something for the current events that Ares, the bloodthirstiest God and one that had been willing to set his family against each other in a way that could have resulted in millions of mortal deaths just so he could enjoy a war, was the coolest head among them.

The War God snorted, "Whoever is holding your leash is really scraping the bottom of the fuckin' barrel." The War God sneered coldly, "Weakling."

The eyes of Koios, Titan Lord of the North, if possible, went even colder. "Quite the mouth from a God defeated by a mere ignorant _child_." The Titan sneered back.

Ares' scarred cheeks swiftly flushed red, his burning eyes alight in remembered anger. He really didn't want to be reminded of that day on the beach. He should've got Prissy away from the sand and the surf before he laid the smack down on him.

Before he could snarl back though, the massive giant glared over at the icy Titan, halting the War God's words. "Enough of the posturing, Icy. Just get on with it. You can gloat and celebrate later, _after_ we return back to base."

"Shut up, brat," the Titan returned with a scowl, a blue-white embedded in his Stygian black armour pulsing and flaring with a cold light in response to his temper, "you wouldn't even _be_ here if I hadn't ponied up the essence needed. Or would you rather return to your previous accommodations? I hear the birds are a bit peckish and are missing their favourite flavour of pâté."

Tityos scowled heavily, a hand instinctively going for his scarred stomach, as if to protect it, but nonetheless stilled his tongue and instead directed his glare to the Archer Twins, who met his glare in kind.

"Thought so," snorted the Titan before he turned to address the thorn in their _employer's_ plan's side, smirking as he met the furious sea green eyes of the boy.

"Ah, Perseus Jackson," the Titan said with faux respect and a false smile, ignoring the Gods, much to their displeasure, "the vaunted Hero of Olympus," he chuckled heartily as he absently pulled on one of the chains of black ice, making the captive Hestia stumble slightly backwards and, with a light tap of his boot to her ankle, then completely fall back across his cold throne, sprawled sideways across his lap, as one of his hands came up and clapped itself over one of her full breasts and began squeezing, molesting the maiden goddess who was completely defenceless and at his mercy, the Goddess unable to even speak out of pure shame and misery.

He ignored the resulting growls and rising powers of the furious Olympians and their spawn as he continued his talk with the main objective of his scheme.

"Your reputation precedes you," Koios said admiringly. Even he couldn't help but be at least a little impressed with the half-blood's resume and noted achievements. Thorn in his brother's side the kid might have been, but he had to give credit where it was due and the lad had whole reams of it. Their spies had ensured to give them accurate and complete information of the big players among the half-bloods, both Greek and Roman, and made sure that even the slightest achievement never went unreported.

The Titan of Farsight, Intellect and Knowledge respected that. Even more so now that it gave him the ability to make the boy a puppet, willing to dance to his tune. Such was the price of being a Great Hero, you are remembered for your strengths and achievements, but you are also left vulnerable as your enemies now know your weaknesses.

"Arguably, you are one of the greatest Heroes to stride the world in this modern age," he smirked at the boy, taking enjoyment in the fierce anger that burnt in those green eyes. Ah, winding up an enemy was _sooo_ much fun. It not only made them predictable, easier to defeat or manipulate, but it also fulfilled a deep seated desire for him to lord his intelligence over others.

He had missed doing that when he was in Tartarus. The company down there had been rather lacking in the satisfactory amount of intelligence for him to take a well deserved victory.

"Of course," his free hand, one that was not constantly molesting the form of his delightful little niece (who knew that her true humanoid form was such a voluptuous woman? A shame he hadn't seen her in it back in the First War. Even then she had been hiding in a child form. This hot number must have been why his nephew and grandson had both vied for her hand.) who's almost silent and breathless little squeaks and whimpers were music to his ears and her acrid scent of fear a bouquet of sweet wine, yanking on the chain attached to the neck of his pleasing looking footrest, making the girl jerk forward slightly before recovering, her face blank of emotion and eyes too dulled of intelligence to even register the motion.

It had been quite the experience to break her, or at least give the appearance that he did.

"What is a Hero without his bride?" He idly questioned, ignoring the roars of impotent hatred and rage as the young hero, his target, smashing his powerful blade, Anaklusmos, futilely against the barrier thrice before seeming to still himself.

"Enough games," the voice that passed through the boy's lips was harsh, almost demonic, in it's intensity and hatred, wrathful words flowed forth like lava, scorching the air between them. Many of the boy's comrades flinched in fear of that voice, one so unlike the normal tones of the sarcastic son of the seas. Even the Gods cast a wary eye at the boy, except for those that shared his hatred, namely Athena, Artemis, Zeus, Apollo and Poseidon. Hades himself, with his beloved wife standing right behind him, glanced at the boy, an eyebrow raised in respect at the boy's expressed wrath. "What do you want, Titan?" The title was spat, as if it were something vile and anathema to the boy child.

Deep within his mind, Koios smirked and chuckled. Perfect. All according to plan.

"I thought it would be rather obvious," he drawled, a cheeky smirk on his face, "I and my large companion," he gestured disdainfully to Tityos, who glared at him slightly before going back to his glaring contest with the Twins, "went to rather great lengths to capture these ladies," he mentally jangled all the chains leading from his throne in emphasis, making the connected females shift slightly in one form or another, "all of which are connected to one person in particular," he yanked on the Athena girl's chain, making her shift again, "this one especially." He smirked at the enraged boy, "but, since you seem to have trouble with adding things up, as your most recent report card has stated, let me spell it out for you." His smirk became devilish as he pointed to himself, tapping the large diamond of his armour, "I." He waved his hand in a round about manner before clenching it into a fist in front of his heart, "Want." His hand then thrust out, his index finger pointing directly at the son of Poseidon, "**You**."

* * *

><p>Melody abruptly grasped ahold of the fur of her animal companion and gave a firm tug, making him also abruptly halt his long loping run, a slower pace than he had been travelling for the majority of the way due to the sight of the the immense pine, one that Melody knew to mark the boundary of the Camp.<p>

Something was wrong, she could feel it in her bones, the cold wind that blew off of the ocean chilling her more than it should. Her senses, trained and experienced in her various adventures, feeling a power in front of them, one that was different from the myriad familiar sensations of a God that she could feel, an indication that the Olympians were still there.

The power was familiar. Familiar and reviled by her. Memories once buried rising to the surface for a moment before being forcefully shoved down. Was it possible...?

The dark clad form of her brother in all but blood appeared at her side, his speed was able to easily keep up with Sandy, cocking his masked head for a moment as if questioning her actions, before it abruptly snapped forward, a low snarl emitting from behind the fired white clay, and his whole body became tense and jittery.

Well, that certainly confirmed it. Her black clad brother was always more sensitive to power and was able to recognise the different signatures easily. He was also pretty laid back, even before his problems became as bad as they were, and had never showed anger or hate, even if he was killing monsters. Hatred was a human emotion and thus it wasn't possible for her brother feel it or express it.

Except when it came to one thing. One being.

"Follow," she said sharply to her brother, making him snap his head to her, his bestial green eyes glowing with suppressed rage and bloodlust, looking like he wanted to rip something apart. She could understand that, she felt the exact same way about the soon to be dead son of a bitch, "but stay hidden."

He nodded sharply before his form seemed to waver, like a mirage, before he vanished completely. Unseen, unheard, unnoticed.

Good. Won't it be a shock for the bastard to meet both his greatest accomplishment and his greatest failure.

Right up until his heart is ripped out through his rib cage.

"Let's go," she murmured to Sandy, directing the wolf away from the road and into the forest that surrounded the Camp. No need to give away their presence and scare the prick off.

Sandy rumbled slightly and did as he was directed, his massive paws not making a single noise as he moved, despite his massive size. Such was the stealth of a wolf in a forest, even more so when the wolf wasn't an ordinary one by any means.

Melody glanced the setting sun as it shed it's bloody red rays upon the earth, seeming to almost bleed with anger, bloodlust and the desire for violence. It's sister, the moon, in it's current crescent phase also looked to be rising early, it's usual yellowish-silver face tinged the same crimson as the sun, looking like a curved sword or a wolf's fang dipped in the heart's blood of an enemy. It was clear that both of the Twins were not very happy at the moment.

"You'll get your wish, Pops." She muttered quietly, "you can be sure of that."

* * *

><p>Artemis glared her rage at Tityos and Koios with equal measure.<p>

One had been a tormentor of her mother, Leto, aiming to rape her at Hera's, the vain bitch, urging until her brother and herself had killed him with their arrows and then thrown him into Tartarus, punished to have two vultures feast upon his liver everyday as it regenerated each night, much like Prometheus had suffered on his mountain top.

The other, much to her shame, was her own maternal grandfather, who was even now tormenting one of her Hunters, a maiden daughter of one her more tolerable half-sisters, and her own beloved aunt Hestia.

The two most definitely deserved her rage.

But at this moment they were unassailable, the barrier separating them too powerful to overcome safely without it exploding under the force of their power and most probably killing those within.

It shamed her both that the putrescent male pig was able to successfully pull of this stunt and that it was her own grandfather, her maternal one at that, that had done this and consorted with a being that had attempted to despoil his own daughter.

And now the cold bastard was making his demands.

She glared heavily at the bastard as he smirked at Perseus Jackson, the evident 'true' target of this debacle. She wasn't exactly sure why the young man was, something this elaborate for only petty revenge wasn't exactly her grandfather's style, but she had no doubt that it boded ill for the Olympians as a whole.

"Why the Styx do you want me?" The boy growled lowly, sounding more like his father when he became truly angry. Poseidon might temperamental and unpredictable at times, a part and parcel of ruling over the ever changing sea, but when he became truly angered and enraged the Ruler of the Seas became the abyss, dark, cold and quiet, his thoughts seething with malice like an underwater volcano.

Right before he unleashed absolute hell on the poor fool who had earned his ire.

The only thing now holding the boy back, holding them all back, from utterly destroying the bastard and his little entourage, was the barrier and the hostages.

Koios better hope he didn't lose his grasp on one of them.

"A complicated question," mused the cold Titan to the boy, his disgusting hand trailing over the bare breasts of a humiliated and, dare Artemis think it, scared Hestia. It made Artemis furious that her sweet aunt was placed in that position. She cursed the Ancient Laws that prevented her aunt from being able to destroy the bindings that held her, leaving her to suffer the pain and fear that her Hunters feared the most. "Suffice to say, my current employer wishes for the presence of yourself. To fulfil a task that only you could." He smiled coldly at Perseus, the rattling of Annabeth's chain audible in the silence that had descended while the two talked. "This, is just to ensure your co-operation. I am sure you understand what will happen if you refuse my most generous offer, yes?"

Artemis hissed lowly, one that was echoed by similar hisses and growls from various Olympians and half-bloods, Athena and her children foremost among them and Poseidon not far behind. Koios had planned well. There was no way that the boy would refuse to take the implied offer. Personal Loyalty was the young man's Fatal Flaw, willing to do anything for those he loved and would never allow them to come to harm if he could prevent it in some way, no matter the cost to himself.

And even Artemis, eternal maiden and 'man-hater', knew that he loved the daughter of Athena, she had seen glimpses of that back on that winter night in Maine and more when the Quest to save her had reached Mount Othrys. It had only grown since then, becoming official at the end of the most recent Titanomachy.

That powerful bond of love was now the rope around the neck of them both.

"Perseus," warned Poseidon, his sea green eyes wary as he saw the conflicted yet resolute expression on his son's face, only to be cut off by the hard tone of his own child.

"If I come with you," the son of the seas said slowly, "of my own free will...you will let them go?"

"No," promptly answered Koios, stunning them all. Didn't he just say that he wanted Perseus? "At least not all of them," Koios continued, his face lit once more in an evil grin, "My offer is this: Swear upon the Styx to accompany me, and not attempt to escape me or my companions, and I will in turn release the young Hunter from my chains. I will, however," he now smirked even broader, knowing that he had the upper hand, "keep the brain child and my niece as a surety of your good behaviour. Misbehave and attempt to rebel?" The smirk now became cold and cruel, his blue-white eyes dancing in wicked delight, as his hand wandered down the side of the captive goddess, resting it just at her hip, toying with the scanty cloth that granted her a degree of modesty. It sent chills down the spine of Artemis. She had seen those looks on men before. Men that she had gladly torn to pieces with her own hands. It made her fear for her aunt's and the maiden's safety even more.

"And I will throw one of them to the Laistrygonians and the other to my fine brother," he plunged his hand underneath the small cloth roughly, his actions hidden but obvious to those who could only watch on, making Hestia loudly gasp in pain, "who I am sure will show them the...pleasures of the flesh."

Artemis felt her skin go chalk white, her ichor fleeing from her face in utter horror, but that was nothing compared to the skin of the tormented and captive goddess, who had frozen still in complete and utter _terror_. The fool would go this far?! What sickness had taken ahold of his mind to make him do this?! Had his stay in Tartarus twisted him into this deviant? Or had he always been this way?

It disgusted her that such a loving woman, her own mother, was spawned from the loins of this monstrous abomination.

Around the goddess of the Hunt, the Council and the Campers exploded, roaring wordlessly in anger, rage and sheer hate. What the bastard had declared was beyond the bounds of reason and rationality! The audacity and sheer madness of it, to desecrate a goddess in this manner!

"Silence!" The Titan suddenly roared as if in a fit, his power flaring as he abruptly stood, tossing away the Goddess of the Hearth like she was mere trash, her skull striking the icy stairs of the cold throne's dais with a loud crack and a splash of ichor. She lay there, dazed and wounded and in chains, utterly helpless.

Annabeth also wasn't spared the Titan's rage, his foot shoving her in a brief tumble down the steps, the metal spikes of his boots scraping down her already injured back, making blood flow sluggishly. She lay there, at the base of the throne's steps, her eyes wide and blank and staring.

If it hadn't been for the rise and fall of her chest, Artemis would have feared that she were dead. A glance at Perseus showed that, thankfully, he also saw that she was alive, albeit injured to some extent, and had somehow managed to hold himself back.

Artemis thanked the Fates privately, they really didn't need a child of Poseidon sent over the edge right now.

Silence came swiftly, mouths clamping closed as they all collectively glared at the Titan. The Titan's companions/minions/what-have-you just growled wickedly, the cannibals of the north, all of them male, glancing over to the insensate Hestia, licking their lips and, much to the moon deity's disgust, a tent in each of their grimy pants. She snarled as she could smell the disgusting scent of arousal rising from each of them, mixing with their natural scent of rotten corpses and blood.

Tityos also had a feral grin on his face, glancing between the Athena child and Hestia with sick relish, a twisted beatific grin on his face as he relived his sick fantasies.

Animals. No, that would be insulting to the rest of the animal kingdom. Disgusting abominations then.

The scowling Titan relaxed, his easy smile returning, as they all begrudgingly quietened down, "Thank you," he said to the crowd before turning to the flushed and enraged, frustrated and resigned son of the ocean realm, "well boy? What is your answer? Do you accept?"

Artemis knew what the boy's answer would be even before the child opened his mouth.

The boy was interrupted before he could begin though, a melodic voice, full of scorn, from the side cutting through the dusk lit area.

"Don't do anything stupid, son of the sea god," a voice called from the making everyone, even those within the barrier turn towards it, "offering yourself up a sacrificial lamb isn't going to make things better. Not against this piece of shit."

The first sight that they had of this new person was a bit of shock to all of them.

It wasn't often that you saw someone riding a massive wolf like it was a horse, after all.

"Koios," the rider sneered, her beautiful face twisted in a mask of disgust, old hatred and, strangely, vindictive glee, "what a pleasure it is to see you. Again." The sarcasm behind the statement was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Artemis saw the blue-white eyes of the Titan of the North narrow, his stance shift, something that all the Gods saw, making them stop all any idea of challenging this new arrival, even the mercurial and brash Zeus. The stance was now defensive, wary, whereas before it had been confident, almost insolent. The previous stance reflected his knowledge in having the upper hand, that he was in control. His current one, however...

Artemis decided to let this play out. Perhaps it would give her the opportunity she needed to pull a fast one on her despicable grandfather.

"And who is this?" Growled Tityos, casting his lecherous amber eyes over to the new arrival, who's steed slowly padded forward out of the forest, making Artemis frown slightly. She should have sensed massive wolf and it's rider before now, they had been in her domain after all. Was she perhaps too distracted by the situation at hand? The wolf also seemed slightly familiar. It certainly wasn't a normal one, being taller than a Clydesdale horse, maybe even the size of a caravan, a fair bit broader. It made a Hellhound look like a chihuahua.

She heard a slight gasp beside her, making her turn.

It had been her brother, her twin, his blue eyes wide in shock and surprise as he stared the girl that had by now arrived at the barrier, taking her place beside the shocked Jackson after dismounting her lupine ride with the ease of long practice despite the simple white dress that she wore and the backpack she held. There was disbelief in Apollo's eyes, as if he thought what he was seeing couldn't possibly be real, and yet there was an under current of fragile, yearning hope.

Either way, she knew, instinctively, that her twin knew this girl, or at least knew of her, and held great fondness for her, in one way or another.

The murmured word of "Melody", full of relief and hope, crossing his lips pretty confirmed that.

"**_You_**."

On the other hand, the voice that crossed the lips of Koios was far from hopeful. More disdain and anger, as if her very presence was disgusting to him. There was also a hint of wariness that was also in his stance. Artemis noticed that his eyes flickered around, as if looking for something, as if he were expecting someone of something else to be there.

"Me." The black haired girl said a small sneer, an odd expression for the beautiful face that she had, her bright blue eyes flashing like cold steel, as she looked the Titan directly in the face through the barrier, unafraid at the sight of the Titan she saw...before her sneer became a cold grin, "and others."

Artemis was puzzled at what she had said, at least for a brief moment. What did she-?

The Goddess of the moon's thoughts were cut off as the wary Titan suddenly went wide eyed, a look of shock and, dare she say it, fear flitting over his scarred face.

Then chaos erupted.

* * *

><p>Hades staggered back as his ears were assaulted by a deafening howl, a chaotic din, of some beast that shattered the dusk of this winter day. From his long experience with canine kind, Hades could sense, within that howl, a declaration, a challenge, an order that must be obeyed.<p>

Around him, his siblings, nieces and nephews, immortal or not, also staggered, many of them holding hands to their own ears in a desperate attempt to block out the ungodly noise. In one moment, someone or something had rendered the entirety of those with Olympian blood vulnerable to attack.

But as much as they were, frighteningly, affected, those behind the barrier fared even worse.

The Hellhounds within the barrier, ones that had been happily standing at the side of the cannibalistic giants looking their menacing best, abruptly turned and savaged their now former allies. Clubs swung and voices bellowed in shock as said giants reacted to the surprise attack the only way the savages knew how. Violence, violence and more violence.

The cannibals fought for survival, their moves wild, desperate and frantic. Individually, they were easily a match for any one of the Hounds. Unfortunately, they were outnumbered a good three-to-one by the said Hounds.

While the rest of the pack savaged the ranks of the Laistrygonians, two groups of the vicious Hounds attacked the Titan and the Giant, the smaller packs moving like a well oiled machine.

Tityos met them easily, his sheer size and connection with the earth allowing him to easily push through the disorientation that the first howl's sheer volume had caused in him and others. His massive spear, looking more like a telephone pole with a metal tip, swept out, knocking some of the massive canines over. His shield was then thrust out, rendering claw and fang useless and knocking away another few with a force that had them flying almost to the other end of the barrier. A swift hopping side step, and a swirl of his crimson cloak, had him evading the jaws of a more cunning Hound as it aimed to hamstring him in a tactic as old as time. With a growl of annoyance more dog-like than even the Hounds, the Giant brought his raised foot down, hard, on the vulnerable outstretched neck of the cunning Hound.

_CRACK!_

The Hound fell, it's thick neck at an unnatural angle and being crushed by the strength and weight of the vicious Giant, even as it's body went into violent spasms, churning the earth as the signals between what passed for the monster's brain and body misfired several times in succession, crimson red eyes rolling wildly, before stilling, as if turned to stone, and turning into dust.

Dead.

Tityos didn't miss a beat, unconcerned with the creature's death, and merely moved to finish off the dead Hound's pack mates, nary a scratch on his muscled hide and an ugly laugh of vicious glee at the slaughter around him, even if it was his supposed allies dying, on his lips.

Koios also acquitted himself well, much to The Lord of the Underworld's annoyance after he had recovered from the deafening howl. It would be too much too ask for the Fates to have this bastard trip up and kill himself in an ignoble fashion.

A Titan falling to the fangs of Hellhounds? It would be quite embarrassing for the victim and it would also drag the bastard into his realm. After hearing what the cold bastard had in mind for his beloved sister, Hades had a whole host of new torture ideas enter his mind, each of them more painful than the last, that he wanted to use on the cold hearted prick.

The Titan of the North, however, instead of plying about him with his skill at arms, and Hades remembered this particular Titan's skill, used his more arcane gifts.

One Hound lunged forward, leaping toward the Titan, no doubt wanting to bring him down to the ground, where the use of any weapon is very limited, for it and it's pack to worry and tear at.

It was callously backhanded by the blue-white glowing hand of Koios, sending it flying towards the barrier, arcing over it's brothers running behind it.

As it flew toward the translucent barrier, Hades could see frost and rime forming over the Hound at a fast rate, spidering over it's well muscled body with crackles and snaps. By the time it hit the inside of the barrier's wall, the Hound was completely frozen, a flying sculpture of ice.

It shattered into a million shards, sounding like a collapsing glass factory, as it struck the barrier.

Despite the skill and power of the Titan though, Hades noticed that his uncle was far more wary, even fearful, than he should be, those icy eyes flicking around wildly, searching for something, even as he easily fended off the canine assault. The massive dogs were as nothing to him.

So why was he so..._scared_?

He soon got his answer as another of those dreadful howls shattered the night, heard even over the din of battle and struggle. It was another command, the canine version of a King speaking to his subjects. The source of the howl was indeterminable, seeming to come from everywhere.

The effect was immediate, the remaining Hounds attacking Koios, who had been joined by the rest of their pack after they had finished off the Laistrygonians, abandoning the attack and turned and sprinted toward Tityos, fangs bared and falling into step with the rest of their compatriots in attacking the son of Zeus born from Elara and Gaia.

Hades frowned. That wasn't usual behaviour for Hellhounds. They were nothing if not determined in bringing down their prey, however strong it was, and wouldn't turn aside from their chosen victim until they were dead. Hades could put them off to an extent, but that was because of his sheer power compared to them. They feared him and, in turn, they served him, which in turn granted him and his small family a degree of influence over them, so as not be on his bad side. The weak serve the strong or die to feed the strong, that was their primal thought.

Cerberus and Mrs. O'Leary (he couldn't believe the old inventor had actually named the massive Hound that.) were the sole exceptions to that, having been raised by either immortal or human hands.

His eyes narrowed as he watched the scene play out, unable to interfere due to the barrier. Whoever, or whatever, made those howls, however, was different. Hades had the Hounds' fear, and thus their respect and loyalty, how ever shallow it truly was, but this unknown and unseen being had the _authority_, the _right_, to command the Hounds, which trumped his own power over them.

It was unprecedented.

Judging by the even paler than usual face of the icy Titan though, Hades thought that some people around here had an idea as to the cause of those howls.

And was scared shitless of it.

_SMASH_!

An abrupt sound, heard even over the baying and yelping of the Hounds as well as the roars of Tityos as he gloried in the battle he fought against the fast dwindling numbers of the massive dogs, quickly drew attention from Hades and many others, and many an eye grew wide at what they saw.

The chain that had once coiled around Thalia Grace, his annoying little mortal niece, was now shattered and destroyed, ice chips littering the ground where she had been chained.

The Grace girl was also gone, somehow having disappeared.

"What the Styx?" Many gave voice to their confusion.

Hades noticed Koios grew even paler, an unhealthy shade of paper white compared to his usual ice-blue tones. He was scared, verging on outright terrified, as if seeing his executioner's blade swinging for his neck and was unable to even move, but was somehow managing to keep himself together, keeping that prophetic and intelligent mind going.

The Titan leapt toward Hestia, a massive sword, big as a surfboard, black as the night and colder than the heart of Antarctica, appearing in one of his large hands, the other roughly snagging and tugging on the icy chains that held her, pulling her chokingly into his arms, her ember eyes flying wide as she was torn from unconsciousness at the treatment, before he spun her around, gripping her hair tightly, and the massive sword's edge now aligned with her throat, ready to spill her life's blood in a moment.

It made Hades growl, his form flickering as his emotions surged, threatening to assume his Divine Form, before he managed to control himself. He didn't like it when someone threatened his loved ones, and his sweet sister was certainly that, and was very protective of them.

Another shattering sound broke through the din of battle, the Hounds having somehow managed to force the Giant to the extreme back of the barrier (their numbers telling even against the Giant's superior might.) and well away from Koios and his throne, and this time Hades saw what happened, at least to an extent.

He saw the flash of silver, like the glint of a predator's fang, as it struck the chain that held Athena's spawn, shattering it with almost absurd ease, the frosty links, that weren't directly hit by the silver flash, all making muted pops as they broke, freeing the daughter of Athena as the power that created and maintained them was interrupted violently.

As much as he was thankful, even if it was only a little bit (it was only the daughter of Athena and his youngest brother's spawn that was rescued, after all), that there was someone inside the barrier that seemed to be on their side, it was disconcerting that he couldn't see or even sense them. Even the blade, which had moved too fast for him to make out, had vanished, as had the form of the daughter of Athena after a moment.

For someone who was the master of being unseen, a Lord of the Darkness and the Shadows, it was both concerning and unwelcome.

Many of them, Gods and half-bloods alike, were confused with this turn of events, the friends and parents of the vanished two captives most of all. Murmurs and confusion ran rampant.

"Boy!" Roared Koios, holding his sword to his niece's throat, his helmeted head twisting wildly. Hades took a degree of satisfaction in the fear that now adorned the previously smirking and confident visage. "Come out! Now!"

But it seemed the Titan had a good idea.

Rich and scornful laughter cut through the murmurs, "He'll come out when he is good and ready, you gangrenous dickhead." The wolf riding girl said almost gaily, her blue eyes looking at the increasingly desperate looking Titan with malicious mirth, a cat enjoying the struggles of the mouse between it's paws. Her smirk was colder than the frost and rime the Titan ruled over. "You have quite the debt to pay, after all."

The Titan snarled, rage and desperation filling his face. Hades smiled. He may not be the one tormenting the bastard, but he could enjoy watching someone else do it all the same.

"The little shit should be dead," the Titan hissed at the girl, his usual eloquence abandoned and his eyes no longer as cold as ice, but now burning with an inner fury, the final flames of a dying warrior who knew he was about to meet his end but still looked in vain for a way out. "As should you, you little bitch."

Hades heard a low snarl, two of them in fact. One was clearly from the now growling wolf at the girl's side, it's hackles raised and fangs bared. It didn't seem to like the insult thrown at it's mistress.

The other, to his surprise, came from his generally laid back nephew. His own blue eyes burned like the sun and his usual happy smile was now twisted into a, frankly, terrifying snarl. That reaction had The Lord of the Underworld off guard. He had seen that expression only a few times, when the Sun Rider's female family was insulted or...

...

A glimpse at the girl and back to Apollo, to Artemis and then to the girl and back to Apollo again, had Hades a little shocked. Despite the dark hair, a trait neither of the Archer Twins naturally shared, the girl looked very similar to Apollo and Artemis in the facial department and those cold blue suns that the girl had for eyes matched Apollo's when he was coldly and deadly furious.

So the girl was a daughter of Apollo? Interesting. It would be something to keep in mind.

"You underestimate him," the girl snorted in disgust, "after all that you have put him through, the pain in mind, body and soul that he endured, do you really think that his will to live is that weak? No," she shook her head, solemn and sorrowful rather than furious now, "he is one that will not fall, not until he has accomplished his task. Even now, with his mind twisted, soul mangled and his body in constant pain, he still stands, he still fights." Her eyes now became those cold flames once more, boring into blue white ones of Koios, who flinched at the amount of malice and hatred in that glare.

Hades' eyes narrowed, and not just at the information that the girl was semi-divulging, as he saw something stir near the distracted Titan, an unnatural twist in the shadows and darkness. Strangely, he couldn't feel anything impinging on his domain, not even his son that was at his side, yet he could definitely see that the movement of those shadows was not that of nature. Something was clearly manipulating them but _he couldn't sense them_.

Something was definitely amiss and it worried him. His realm was one of the most volatile amongst his siblings and the fact that another was able to use it without his monitoring really didn't sit well with him.

The shadows slid across the ground, a detached pool of darkness in the failing light, slowly and stealthily, as the girl spoke, the Titan's attention completely on her, before they slid seamlessly into the Titan's shadow. A sense of anticipation filled the eldest son of Kronos.

It looked like Koios was going to get a very unwelcome surprise.

"He still Hunts."

Those last words from the girl addressing the Titan triggered a reaction from the shadows. Sadly though, it clued the despicable Titan in on the surprise attack.

Stupid melodramatic woman!

The frosty Titan's eyes widened before he threw himself forward, abandoning all dignity, into a roll.

It saved his life.

Just as the Titan's eyes had widened, a form flicked into the visible spectrum, standing directly behind the elder deity, the being's face and majority of the torso hidden from their view, with a large weapon in swinging for the back of Koios, obviously wanting to end it with a single swift blow, a silvery flash in the light of dusk.

The Titan just managed to avoid get his back torn open, much to Hades' disappointment, but his armour didn't fare so well.

With a sound like two metal wheels grinding against each other, the black Stygian Iron that the armour was crafted from was rent apart, a massive gash in it running Koios' left hip to right shoulder, the lips of the cut jagged and peeled, like a knife taken to a can of sardines, evidence of the sheer force behind the swing and the might of the Titan's would be slayer.

Considering that the Titan wore Stygian Iron, a substance with the same amount of near-indestructibility as Celestial Bronze, the new arrival's strength was well proven.

Koios recovered quickly, his battle experience showing even in the face of great adversity, as he quickly came out of his desperate roll, still clutching the unconscious body of Hestia, and spun back towards his new adversary, who had yet to chase after him and was seeming to be simply looking at him now.

It also gave Hades and his kin, close and distant, the chance to get a clear look at this being.

The first thing that stood out was the mask. Solid white and completely blank, it seemed to have been moulded onto the person's face, clinging to the contours and creases like a second skin, making it look like this person's skull was on the outside or that it's face was skinless.

There were two eyeholes in it though, letting the burning green lanterns of the person's eyes glare at it's adversary, the gleam of bestial cunning and rage reflected in those depths. There was no humanity in those eyes, Hades was sure of that.

With eyes use to the darkness of the Underworld, he could easily make out the rest of this person's form. The figure was tall, an easy six foot, and was clad in tightly fitting black clothing with long stripes of greyish-silver down the sides and dark boots on it's feet with black scribes gloves, that left it's fingers exposed, on the hands.

Something about the figure also screamed 'male' to The Lord of Underworld, but he couldn't quite put a finger on what. The stance he held, which was a slight crouch as he readied to pounce on his foe? Or perhaps something else?

That didn't truly matter though. There were two things that were much more important to The Lord of Shadows.

One was that it was only now that he could sense the young man, whatever gift of invisibility, _that he couldn't see through_, he had having finally ended.

And what he could sense!

The power of the boy was immense, unseen by anyone but felt by all. An invisible wreath of power that pounded against the senses, a pressure that pushed against them. Even more than that was the sheer wildness of it, untempered and untamed, as if it was continually trying to break free.

The boy was definitely some to be wary of, having such power and being able to hide it completely was a spine-chilling ability, and he had no doubt that his paranoid little brother would be asking pointed questions, whatever the outcome of this whole debacle.

The second important thing was in the boy's grasp.

Held casually in a single hand and surrounded in a mist of power that seemed to be a strangely purplish-silver colour, was a large curved blade, maybe just under the size of the young man himself. It looked like the fang of some large beast, if a beast's fang were made of metal, that had been attached to a sword hilt. The flat of this sword was mainly a rich purple, dyed into the very metal, leaving only a shallow strip over the cutting edge of the blade untouched, letting it gleam it's original metallic silver. Purple leather wrapped around the hilt and the pommel was a hollow ring, while the cross guard curved out and up towards the actual blade, looking like the talons of an eagle or falcon reaching for it's prey.

For all the rich colours and subtle ornamentation, Hades knew that this was a blade meant for business. He had seen it's work before, carving through the ranks of the myriad of it's previous wielder's enemies long ago in days since past.

He hadn't expected _that_ blade to show up again, it had been lost quite a few centuries ago, let alone in the hands of a male.

A muttered oath from both the Letoides and grunts from the other Olympians also showed their surprise.

Hades noticed the hunted and worried expression on the face of Koios, no longer hiding it from the world at large, as the Titan looked at the young man, his cold blade still at the throat of Hestia.

"I warn you, boy," the Titan said, keeping a careful eye on the young man, "drop the weapon or I will kill this woman," the sword pressed harder on the throat of the Goddess, emphasising the threat. A golden glowing bead of ichor dripped over the black sword, a speck of light on the darkness.

The masked man merely cocked his head silently, as if he didn't understand what the Titan was saying for a moment.

"Do it, boy!" The yells of the Titan were almost terrified, as if being in the presence of the boy made him unhinged, "do it -urrrggh!"

Hades, and everyone else, blinked heavily as the Titan suddenly doubled over, hunching forward and dropping his dark blade with a clatter, clutching a new gash in his armour where his kidneys would be if he were human.

And beside him, appearing out of nowhere and holding the large hunting knife, golden ichor dripping from the blade, that had pierced his armour so, was an exact mirror image of the boy, down to the mask, carriage, body and clothing but minus the mist shrouded blade, who had until now only stood silently.

Then the two masked young men went to work.

It was poetry in motion as these two men worked in complete synch, as if it had been planned out in advance.

The hunting knife wielding boy quickly lifted a booted foot and lashed out, Spartan-style, kicking the injured Titan's wound with enough strength to launch him sideways, a howl of agony escaping the North Lord's lips as the pain was intensified, and then quickly gathered a now confused and slightly worried Hestia to himself and leapt back.

Leaving the field of battle open for the sword wielding one.

It was over in moments.

The boy became a streak of silver on black, his form a mere blur even to the eyes of Hades, as the boy sped towards his foe. It rivalled the speed of Hermes in full sprint.

Once. Twice. And then twice more came those familiar flashes of silver as the boy took apart his disoriented enemy apart in mid-air.

Koios landed roughly, his face in the dirt, and a blue-white eye looking directly at the sole of one his boots.

Boots that now belonged to an amputated leg.

The Titan Lord of the North howled in agony as pain blazed through the stumps of his arms and legs, having been cut off at the hips and shoulders respectively, golden ichor flowing like a river from each of them.

Hades smirked viciously in approval. If he couldn't interfere and do it himself, then he would gleefully cheer on the young man tearing the bastard who dared to touch his eldest sister in the way he had.

Besides, Hades glanced over to where the Hounds and Tityos still fought, though it seemed to be coming a close, there were other targets for his anger that needed their daily drubbing.

The sword wielding masked man gave the wailing and blubbing Titan a light kick, rolling him onto his back.

"M-mercy," the helpless Titan cried, "y-you can't do this! I **created** you!"

The sword user merely glared down at the Titan, and Hades could hear the low growl rumbling from behind that blank mask, a signal of the boy's anger.

The knife user came to his side, still gently cradling the chained form of relieved, and slightly scared and apprehensive, Hestia in his arms, a protective cage of flesh and bone. Hades frowned, the motion seemed a bit too close for his virginal sister in his opinion.

There was a slight wavering from the knife-wielder, his existence seeming to ripple like water, before he vanished in a burst of darkness, the shadows springing to life and seeming to dive into the sword-wielding boy. Luckily, his elder sister was set on her feet before it happened, so she didn't drop.

Hades was taken aback. Using the shadows to something like that, making a physical copy of oneself, was unheard of, at least by him. He mentally nudged the threat potential of the boy a notch higher.

The sole remaining masked individual's growl grew louder, the begging and pleading of the Titan going ignored.

A final silver flash ended it completely.

"No!" Roared the voice of the Giant in protest, his spear swinging out and smashing the last Hound to pieces as he did so.

Koios' headed rolled briefly, a look of shock and fear still firmly imprinted on it, before his body began glowing.

"Avert your eyes!" Zeus, the windbag, bellowed, the non-immortals present doing so as the body of the Titan erupted into a display of divine power, briefly assuming his Divine form before his power departed the world with a wail of despair.

When the light show was over, the barrier flickered twice briefly before shattering like glass.

The Gods moved instantly, even as the boy swung his blade again, severing the chains that held the form of Hestia entrapped, many of them charging toward the agitated Tityos. Hades, meanwhile, was instantly at his sister's side, a swirl of shadows cloaking her from sight as she briefly assumed her true form as her power returned to her in a rush, preventing any deaths among the half-bloods and giving her the privacy to change her form from the mockery of clothing and flesh that she had been forced to assume.

The boy just stood there quietly, looking up into Hades' dark eyes, seeming unaffected by the malice that draped over him like a cloak or the tumult that his actions had caused.

"Curse you, boy!" Roared Tityos, making the masked boy glance over to the Giant, "you will pay! Mark me, you will pay! Mother will guarantee this!"

An deep rumble shook the earth at the words of Tityos, knocking many off of their feet and made Hades' eyes widen at the power that had suddenly made itself known, before a massive earthen hand erupted from the ground, soil and grass tossed aside as it grasped ahold of the Giant, who didn't fight the grasp of the construct, before he was pulled beneath the ground, vanishing.

Then all was silent.

Demigod and Immortal alike looked among themselves, faces worried. The younger ones, the mortals, might not have an idea what had happened just then, but his siblings and their immortal children knew, and it boded ill for the future.

"Well," drawled a girl's voice, drawing attention from one and all, as the strange wolf riding girl stepped into what had once been the confines of the barrier, the massive wolf following behind her like a well trained pet, "that was unexpected."

* * *

><p>Zeus scowled heavily as he and the rest of Olympians, plus Hades and Persephone, looked upon these two strangers, who he admitted, reluctantly, had rendered great aid in their time of need.<p>

Things were now back to what they were, to a point.

With the disappearance/escape of Tityos and the utter destruction, for there were really no other words for it, of Koios, the masked man had returned the captives that he had saved before going into battle, their unconscious forms hidden behind the icy Titan's throne, arguably the safest place they could be from the Titan's possible retaliatory attacks. His nephew hadn't wasted a moment to sweep his paramour in his arms, reassuring himself that the daughter of Athena was embrace that even the normally reserved Athena had joined in, though she was careful to avoid touching the Sea Spawn.

Wounds were then mended by his surprisingly happy and joyful healer of a son and proper clothing placed on their forms, granting them the respect they were due, even as Apollo ensured that they didn't awaken. The calmly reposing forms of both Thalia and Annabeth had then been placed in the Infirmary, the impetuous Perseus getting his own father's permission to excuse himself from his offered post at The Lord of the Seas side, the middle son of Rhea and Kronos understanding the boy's desire to be at his lover's side after the ordeal that they all had just been through, to reassure himself that the girl was alright.

After the debacle of the attack and resultant aftermath, Zeus had called for the meeting to reconvene. The King, while desiring nothing more than to let the minor trivialities, that were the norm for such a meeting, go hang, knew that a feeling of stability, of normality, would help them all come out of the worried daze that had sprung among them, mostly due to how the Giant had evaded their wrath...and what it meant for the future.

However, there were also other matters to spoken of and discussed.

The subjects of the discussion now stood before him.

"First, I must say Olympus thanks you for your aid in our time of need," the King intoned ritualistically, reciting the words of gratitude by rote, even as his hard stare and scowl never shifted from his face. This situation was too tense for anything else

"It was of no moment, my lord," the girl said with a small bow, her massive lupine companion also ducking it's head a little.

The masked boy, however, with the tip of his resting in the earth and his hands on the pommel, the picture of a waiting guardian, a protector at ease, as he hovered beside the girl, ready to leap to her defence, simply cocked his head, a gesture more wolf-like than human. It was as if he wasn't sure what to make of the words.

"We both," she gestured to the masked boy and herself, "had a 'beef', as the regular humans say, with him," a sharp grin, a vicious smirk, crossed her, admittedly, beautiful features. "'Hoisted by his own petard', as it were."

The seated Ares chuckled cruelly. His warlike son always did enjoy ironic violence, even better if it was a messy death.

Zeus mentally rubbed his head, an ache blooming behind his eyes. Great, the girl was both mischievous and vindictive. He got enough of that from his blond haired immortal son's, he didn't need more from much more distant relations.

"However, questions must be asked," he said firmly, taking control, "among them being, 'Who are you?'"

As if on cue, a burst of light erupted above the girl's head, the sign of Determination/Claiming, taking many of the Council, and the watching audience of demigods seated in the Arena around them, aback.

Only the girl and her companions didn't look surprised. Indeed, even before the image had gained a recognisable form, her blues were glaring annoyingly at one of his more melodramatic sons.

"Took you long enough, Pops." She said to Apollo with a scowl, her face highlighted by the image of a golden lyre that hovered above her dark haired head, "I though I was gonna die of old age before you finally did it." She snorted mockingly, "doing it in front of a full Council at a Solstice Meeting? You really are a ham."

"Well, sooooory," Zeus made a face as his son acted like an immature child, his face set in a pout. Had he no pride? No dignity? He was a god, dammit, show some of that respected air of power and awe! "It's not my fault you dropped off the radar years ago," his face softened, the pout becoming slightly sorrowful, the bright blue orbs that he shared with his daughter darkening with remembered grief. "I had thought you dead."

She smiled at her father bitterly, "At times I wished I was."

Zeus didn't like that comment. It hinted at things that, while he had no knowledge of them, could a danger to Olympus, to his Throne.

Especially considering that somewhere in this convoluted mess a Titan, of all beings, was involved.

The girl turned back toward the King, her head slightly as she did, "My name is Melody Tannes," she gestured to the massive wolf, who was now sitting on it's haunches, looking at them all calmly, which in itself was odd behaviour for what was clearly a monster of some variety. Generally monsters ran from the presence of a God, unless they were either powerful in the extreme, like Python and others of like power, or they were in some way aligned with the deity they sensed. "this is Sandy, who you would know as the Wolf of Psamathe."

That made many of the demigods draw a sharp breath, and even a few of the Council, Poseidon in particular, looked surprised.

And it was no wonder. The legend of that particular monster was rather obscure, almost forgotten, hidden behind tales more famed.

It also made a few of the Council unsure. They knew the legend and the links this particular monster had to the divine. The real question was how this girl, Melody, was tied to that particular nereid.

The fact that the wild monster now acted like a tamed mount, albeit one more deadly than most, due to the girl was also of some concern. If she could somehow tame this wild beast, what else could she do?

"And the boy?" Artemis interrupted harshly and impatiently, her moonlike orbs set in a scowl as she looked at said boy, and the sword he held, giving him a withering glare that would have had anyone backing away from her so as not to be the focus of her anger.

The boy didn't even flinch, merely cocking his head to look at her, green eyes examining her, before turning back to look at Zeus, dismissing the goddess.

Zeus grimaced to himself as his virginal daughter's eyes flared with power and anger. This didn't bode well.

"He has no name, has no need of one at this moment," the girl answered, a slight warning in her voice and her blue eyes narrowed, "but he is my brother in all but blood, and I address him so."

Curiouser and curiouser.

"And why is that?" Artemis continued asking, her glowing eyes burning as she tried to goad the girl and her companions, "Can he not speak for himself? Too dumb to use his wagging tongue?"

And that curiosity became resignation. Artemis had always been a prideful woman and being apparently dismissed by one of the gender she liked the least had only stoked those fires of anger. Zeus had a feeling this was going to get messy.

Artemis never took perceived insults well.

"Enough, Artemis," the King interrupted shortly, stopping any argument or fight before it began. It had already been a full day, and he just _knew_ it was going to get worse without anymore unnecessary bickering.

His daughter huffed and sat back in her throne, still glowering at the unfazed masked individual. The embers of anger were banked for a time.

He sighed heavily, almost groaning. Heavens above he wanted, more than anything else at that moment, a cup of good wine, not nectar it would just give him more energy that he really didn't need, a long sleep, to let his mind and thoughts settle, and some uninterrupted peace and quiet, a rare commodity on Olympus.

"And for what reason is this?" He said, slightly tired.

The girl looked back at him, breaking the glare she had been piercing his daughter with. It seemed the girl was rather protective of the young man.

"The reason is complex," she said slowly, obviously choosing her words carefully, "and it is tied in with why I came here in the first place: to seek an audience with the entire Council or, failing that, one with both Lord Hades and Lady Artemis."

Murmured whisperings from the stands of halfbloods reflected the surprise on many of the God's own faces at that statement.

"And what could have possibly happened that would drive you to seek such an audience?" Asked his eldest brother, his pale face in a frown as his body leant forward on his throne of bone. "The realms of my niece and I rarely cross," he scowled heavily, as did The Lord of the. Underworld's son, as he glanced over at the form of the Huntress, "save for one time which did not end at all well."

Zeus twitched slightly as his daughter flinched. The death of Bianca di Angelo, and the cause of it, was still a sore spot for Hades.

"Koios happened." The girl answered shortly, unfazed by the heavy presence of fear and death that Hades produced momentarily as he remembered his daughter's death. "On the orders of his brother, the Jigsaw Puzzle himself," many snorted at the creative nickname for the now, hopefully, Fading Titan King, "the bastard began a project of what was supposed to be the key to the Titan's victory or, failing that, enact a scorched earth policy if Kronos was defeated, giving Olympus a Pyrrhic victory at best."

Zeus felt a ball of ice form in his stomach. Something like that was definitely his be damned father's modus operandi. Plans within plans, wheels within wheels. And if any possible chance at victory was lost...take the enemy down with them.

His instincts screamed at him to lash out now, to destroy what the girl had implied would be their destroyer. His hands twitched, wanting to grasp the Master Bolt at his side.

His mind ran back over the battle, if it even could be called that, between the masked young man, the supposed 'project' if he read between the lines of the girl's words correctly, and the Titan Lord of the North.

It had been the first time he had seen a Titan so thoroughly outclassed, even his own victory against Kronos in the first war had been close, almost too close, and he had been dead exhausted at the end of it, barely able to move toward his father's throne and smash it.

Yet this boy, someone less than two decades old, not even of drinking age, and torn Koios, who was a powerful force in the first war, apart like he was made of wet tissue paper.

It was concerning in the extreme.

Not even a year ago, had the King encountered the boy after seeing his actions, he would have struck the boy down already. The girl also obviously held some sway over the masked warrior and would have been dealt with, though in a more subtle manner as to avoid the wrath of his more flamboyant son. Possible threats to Olympus, and thus his own rule, could not be tolerated. The girl had already implied that the boy was the result if a project by a Titan, and almost nothing that came of them was in any way good.

However, he remembered more recent events, and ones that were a bit more distant.

He remembered casting his Bolt just after World War Two, aiming to destroy a possible threat to Olympus. He remembered the resulting cascade effect that had the Titans once more knocking on Olympus' doors and their children being the only ones able, or even willing, to defend them.

His hand twitched again, before firmly grasping ahold of the armrests of his throne. No. Not this time. For once in his reign as King, he would not jump to conclusions, would not make a hasty judgement. He would hear the girl's story, and that of the boy's before he would decide.

Besides, Olympus owed a heavy debt to them, the boy in particular. He had managed to save not only his Hunter of a daughter, but also the Architect of Olympus (who was currently working on his temple. He really didn't want it to go unfinished.) and, arguably most importantly, his pacifistic eldest sister Hestia.

A concerned glance at her, from where she stoked a small hearth fire, showed that she was also following along with the conversation between the girl and the council. But her burning ember eyes, soft and warm, were directed at the young man. There was curiosity there, and apprehension, as well as gratitude, and even the normal desire to help. But there was also something else that he couldn't quite put his finger on, Hestia's current form of a very young child not exactly helping him to identify the emotion.

He put it out of his mind for now.

"And what project was this?" He questioned sternly. He wouldn't pre-emptively decide to destroy them he decided, that was the least he could do, but the boy was still a possible threat to Olympus and thus more information was needed. He would only judge them then.

The girl grimaced, "Project Fenrir."

Zeus felt the chill in his stomach move to his spine. Somehow, those words boded ill.

* * *

><p>Sorry for the late posting, this idea has been percolating in my brain and putting a halt to my other stories. The Harry potter elements of this story will only be, at most, minor. Please let me know what you think. As always please review.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

**Fenrir: The Rise of the Wolf**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Harry Potter or Percy Jackson Series**

**Chapter 1: Origins of Birth**

"Project Fenrir?" Questioned Apollo, raising an eyebrow at the name, "not a very Greek name."

His daughter snorted in disdain, "The frozen bastard was always rather interested in expanding his domain. He had more than a little knowledge of both Slavic and Norse myth, probably hoping he could masquerade as one of those deities once you Olympians were knocked off your perches." She grumbled sourly, a critical eyebrow raised at him, "I can see where you got your ham-like ways."

Apollo pouted. So he enjoyed acting. He was a patron of the Arts!

Melody's face got serious again. "The project, as well as it's sister, Gleipnir, was the combined brainchild of Kronos and Koios, dating back to, as far as I know, before the First World War, maybe even the Boer Wars."

Apollo jolted at those words, as did his siblings, while the original six Olympians only frowned heavily. A project that had been over a century in the making, by some of the craftiest and most ruthless beings to ever walk the face of the earth. For someone who knew the Crooked One's reputation as a planner and schemer, aided by one of the, arguably, wisest, knowledgable and prophetic Titans, this felt like miles of bad road.

"I am not exactly sure how they did this from that point in time," his beautiful daughter continued, "however during the time I was..._enjoying_ the cold bastard's company," Apollo could clearly hear the contempt and hatred his daughter had for the now deceased Titan in her voice, even as he gripped his throne's armrests at the fact that she had been in the Titan's custody at one point in time, "he had implied that they worked through mortal intermediaries. Mercernaries, underworld figures and other general lowlife dregs, contacting and influencing them through their dreams. The plan had only been in the beginning stages then, looking for the right candidates for the full project."

"And what was The exact reason behind these projects?" The cool voice of his half sister asked, grey eyes cold and calculating, so different from the raging storms they had been when the barrier was up.

Apollo frowned slightly as he saw his daughter glance at the speaker. It had been just a flicker, gone before her face had met that of Athena's, but he had seen a lot of negative emotion in that face. Disgust, disdain, contempt, outrage and a smouldering anger that was waiting to be unleashed.

Apollo had a feeling that his daughter didn't particularly like his wise sister, though for what reason he didn't have a clue.

"For project Fenrir, the reason was simple," she took a breath, as if readying herself to push the little red button that would make things explode, "the creation of a Godslayer."

Apollo felt the metaphorical bomb go off as silence met the remark.

Then the roars began making themselves heard.

* * *

><p>"What?!" Roared Zeus, his voice as thunderous as the domain he ruled, heard clearly above the rest of his kin. But even that noise, the voice of command that had silenced his unruly children, even the confrontational Ares, with ease was not enough to quiet them this time.<p>

"Bullshit!" Yelled Ares, his eyes aflame, "I call complete bullshit!"

"Impossible!" Yelled Demeter, her brown eyes disbelieving, refusing to accept the girl's words.

The hue and cry exploded amongst the Council, all of them denouncing the daughter of Apollo's words.

Their respective children, both by their sides and in the audience, also either exclaimed their disbelief or sat their in shock, staring at the origin of the words spoken as if she had suddenly sprouted four heads, her skin turned violet and her hair puke green.

It was complete and utter bedlam.

The daughter of Apollo said nothing, weathering the verbal storm and the burst of primal aura that all of the Gods lost control of in their fit of outrage and bluster.

All, that is, except one. One that had had enough of the foolishness of her family.

An earth-shattering roar rose over all the noise, quietening them a bit, as the Sacred Flame exploded into brilliance, rising even over the tops of tall trees, making any shadow or darkness flee in it's wake. All of them, without fail, turned to the source of it...and quailed in their seats, thrones and shoes at the sight their eyes met.

"Silence!" Roared an infuriated Hestia, in full adult form, draped in the flames of her domain. Her eyes were infernos instead of comforting coals and her face, normally soft and gentle, was harsh and sharp like an eagle, and her brown robe danced with brilliant flame, the billowing sleeves set alight giving the impression of burning wings.

It was like she was an angry phoenix rising amidst the flame it was born of.

From King and Queen to half-blood and satyr, from parent to child, from immortal to mortal, all quailed at the sight of the Last Olympian unleashing her temper.

At her uncharacteristic demand, all fell silent, out of fear, unwilling to bear the brunt of Hestia's anger. Nothing was heard except the roar of the flame, even the creatures of the night knowing not to dare interrupt the Goddess' demand.

"Thank you," she said gently, but sternly, as she looked around at all in attendance, the Sacred Flame slowly dimming back down to it's original state, "I know the news is shocking," she continued, carefully keeping her eyes locked with her immortal family as she spoke, making sure that her words were heard and were sinking in, "but now is not the time to throw a fit," she stated firmly, a brief flare of the Sacred Flame behind her casting her shadow forward, suddenly seeming to loom over even the Council, "let the young one continue to speak," she said gently, looking at the slightly startled form of the daughter of Apollo, "I, for one, wish to hear more about the young man that I owe my life to."

Young Melody looked at the Goddess of the Hearth for a moment, her eyes, like blue suns, seeming to gaze into the soul of the immortal, as if questioning her motives, in the ensuing silence from her demands to one and all. It made the Goddess frown inwardly.

What had the young one gone through to have such distrust?

Hestia also noted that, despite the clamour and her silencing of it, the masked young man had not moved at all. The green glow of his eyes stayed fixed on the form of her youngest brother, his hands stayed clasped on the pommel of the master forged blade, his back stayed erect and tall, a seeming statue except for the soft rise and fall of his chest.

To remain unflinching in the face of the powers the Council had let slip from their control, keeping an eye on only one being despite the clamour. It was _not_ a human response.

She felt a chill down her spine. Perhaps this purported Godslayer (which he technically was with the death of Koios. God was such an ill defined word, after all.) had more to him than she thought.

The daughter of Apollo seemed to find what she was looking for and nodded slightly before shifting her gaze back to the form of a stiff Zeus, the King of Olympus silenced by his eldest sister but his face still demanding answers.

"I am aware that what I have said is unbelievable," the raven-haired daughter of the Sun Rider went on, "no known mortal has ever attained such a title or acclaim...especially not in regards to those who chair the Council."

"Got that right," grunted her nephew, interrupting his own niece, making Hestia frown and glare at the rude visage of the God of War. His mother had taught him manners, she knew this, but it appeared the biker dressed God wasn't one for niceties. Perhaps a little of his Dear Aunt's Encouragement would put him back on the straight and narrow.

(At this moment, Ares felt something cold go down his spine, making him shiver.)

"But it is nonetheless the truth." continued Melody, acting as if the Ares had not spoken at all. Her normally stoic and blank face shifted into a sharp and tight smirk, a shark's grin, all teeth and soft malice, "as you just witnessed with the demise of the Northern Lord, you can see that the operation succeeded...at least in part."

That caused some shifting on the high thrones. Hestia knew her family couldn't deny what had happened before their own eyes. The young man had dominated the fight for the first moment the Titan and he had crossed blades. The Titan may not have exactly been at his best, an intense fear filling him during the brief encounter, strangely (or perhaps not so in retrospect) attached to the boy, but it was still a clean kill.

The boy, however he had done so, had achieved the feat many a mortal had fallen short of.

However, that wasn't the issue. The real meat of this discussion revolving around the boy wasn't that he had achieved the title, but how? And why?

"The achievement was impressive, without doubt," Athena spoke with a slight nod of acknowledgement, her grey eyes sharp and cold as steel, the eyes of a scientist and scholar, putting aside all emotion that could taint their decision and using cold logic, "however," the steel eyes drifted over to the young man in question while still addressing the young lady, "it still begs the question: how was this achieved?"

The girl was quiet for a long moment, her head bowed, making a few believe she wouldn't answer the question. Then she grasped the simple bracelet on her wrist and pulled.

In a ripple of Mist, the ordinary golden charm bracelet grew larger, becoming something that had Hestia and her siblings, along with the Archer Twins, as well as the Hunters and children of Apollo drawing a sharp breath.

In her arms was now a lyre. One of the most splendid of make. Made of gold and ivory, with strings that would never break and would always have perfect pitch, it was a marvel of music engineering. In the girl's hands, it seemed to hum, eager to be struck and plucked and used, as a faint glow, akin to the stars themselves, surrounded the string instrument.

Hestia had seen this instrument in the past, used by the most famous child of Apollo to walk the land, back in the days of yore when Gods walked openly amongst men and the world was still rather young.

But how did this young girl now have this wonder of music, one that was placed by Zeus himself amongst the stars in honour of the Father of Songs?

* * *

><p>"If I may, Lords and Ladies?" Melody said respectfully, her hands readying to brush the strings with her skilled hands, "I believe, if I am given permission from Lady Hestia, that a vision story would perhaps aid my words?"<p>

Melody smiled slightly at the rumblings of confusion from the stands of half-bloods. Their confusion, while understandable, was still rather humourous.

"A vision story, eh?" Grunted out the Master of the Forge, his face twisting on his distorted body to peer at her in open curiosity, drawing him away from his tinkering with an unknown gadget, "that's rare, now days."

Melody laughed gently, smiling openly at the smith, "I assure you, Lord Hephaestus, I have done it before and I can do it again," her smile grew even wider, "it was I used to entertain Lady Thetis in thanks for what she has done for my brother and I."

Melody smiled as Hephaestus eyes softened and a crooked smile crossed his face at the mention of the mother of Achilles. It seemed that the crippled God still remembered his foster mother fondly. Thetis would be pleased.

Melody's own divine parent chuckled, grinning in glee, no doubt proud of her having such a rare gift.

"By all means, child," the Last Olympian said with a nod, moving gracefully away from the hearth flame to stand beside her brother and King, giving Melody the permission she sought. A snap of her fingers and a small stool appeared by the Sacred Flame.

Melody smiled at the good natured Goddess in thanks as she strode over to the fire. It would be much easier to perform in a sitting position than a standing one.

Seating herself elegantly on the stool as Sandy lay down by her side, her fur absorbing the warmth of the flame on this cold night, Melody then raised Lyra, the beautiful harp that was her most treasured possession, she then began to play.

As the notes started, her brother, masked and still, never moved.

* * *

><p>Hera raised an eyebrow as the Sacred Flame surged upward in time to the music performed by this strange child. Not with a roar of a hungry inferno or a crackle of dancing embers but the soft hum of control. It seemed this truly did have the gift. Would wonders never cease?<p>

**The beginning was long ago, before I was a thought in the head of my divine father. Dread Kronos, Lord of the Titans and Othrys, began to stir in the Pit, the chaos created by men at war disturbing his deathly slumber.**

Hera's eyes watched as the flames twisted into shapes, changing their colours, as the girl played a slow, deep, tune, plucking the same throbbing string at a ponderous pace, creating the echoing beat of a drum. The fire itself showed a vast black abyss, surrounded by a cliff of obsidian stone.

Hera shivered. She remembered well that abyss, that terrifying descent into utter darkness. Being suspended over that terrifying chasm for days, weeks, or even months, had given her the impetus to never again attempt a coup against her husband.

**Not quite awake, nor just asleep, his mind, cunning and wicked, began to plan and plot. His desire?**

**The destruction of Olympus.**

The flames shifted flowed into a different form, the throbbing beat taken higher, faster, a military cadence, as those black flames formed tumbled towers and shattered shrines, a broken Olympus.

Above all of that, hovered two orbs of golden fire, eyes looking down on the destruction with a twisted sense of happiness.

**Just as their Lord had awoken, so too did his brethren. Tartarus stirred as the former lords of the world began to marshall their strength, awaiting a day near, yet so far.**

The shattered Olympus became a rugged landscape of stone, streams of red flame and blue flowing around like serpents, twisting like water, showing the rivers that existed within the Pit.

And from that landscape, golden forms in the shape of men rose, stretching their arms out and seeming to bellow a roar to the heavens, revelling in their return.

And still above hovered those golden eyes.

**With what little strength he had, the Titan King slipped into the dreams of mortals, trying to see the state of affairs in the realm of Men, to see what pawns he had to use.**

The flames shifted as the strings of the lure sounded ephemeral and eerie, yet felt like honey. The poisoned words of Kronos in music.

A flicker of images. A soldier shooting a kneeling woman. A cavalry charge into cannon fire. A machine gun fired into the backs of the men advancing to toward what seemed to be a fortified trench, the gunners wearing the same uniform as that of the advancing unit.

It was a highlight reel of the horrors of modern warfare.

**He had more than enough. At least in the mortal world.**

**He saw the world had changed much since his death. The world turned even without his presence. Time marched on. But he also saw the way the men of the world had moved away from the Gods, forging their own path, even as Olympus guided them from the shadows.**

**Olympus was weaker now. The Gods no longer had the ancient strength that had toppled him from his throne. Their mortal children no longer had the strength of their forefather's. Their allies were fewer and enemies greater.**

**Kronos saw a chance. But he knew he was weaker as well. He also knew, despite his arrogant words, that his children may once more win the day.**

**And thus he planned, ruminating, thinking. If he could not have reign over the World, then no one can. **

**But how to accomplish this?**

The flames shifted and the burning blue image of a slyly smiling Koios looked at them.

**Enter Koios, Titan Lord of the North.**

**Intelligent and wise as his King, or perhaps even more so, the Northern Lord suggested his own idea, one that could aid in both of the Time Lord's endeavours.**

**"Weaker we may be, my brother," spoke the cold voice of the North, "but that does not mean another can be made stronger," his voice became a smirk, "is it not said that the son is destined to surpass the father?"**

**Kronos understood what his brother meant immediately.**

**And thus the start of project Fenrir was born.**

The lyre now played a dirge, ominous and foreboding, as the fire spun and created what looked to be a sigil or seal.

It took the form of a silhouette of a wolf's head, jaws agape, and between those jaws was the letter Omega, the symbol of Olympus, looking like it was about to be crushed in the jaws of the wolf.

Hera felt her husband stiffen, his muscles tense. He obviously didn't like where this was going, and she didn't either, but was holding himself back from speaking his mind or acting on the conclusions of his own mind.

Hera smirked wryly to herself despite her grim mood. It seemed even this old dog could learn a few new tricks.

**Named after the Nordic legend of the wolf that, at the Twilight of the Gods, would kill Odin, the King of that pantheon, Project Fenrir was all about creating the 'Ultimate Demi-God Assassin', able to even slay the Gods themselves.**

Those words had everyone straightening in their seats.

**Gods and other immortals are bound by Ancient Laws, hindering their actions. A demi-god, on the other hand has no restrictions and is free to go where they wish, if they are willing to dare the consequences they may face, and are protected, to a point, by the Ancient Laws when it comes to facing the Gods and other like deities.**

**It made them the perfect weapon to destroy Olympus.**

**The problem was the lack of power that demi-gods had in comparison to divine beings.**

That caused some stirring amongst the Council's by-blows. Hera couldn't help but agree with the observation though. The demi-gods of the old days were quite a degree stronger, on average, compared to the ones today. Though there were the exceptional ones that stood out amongst the rest, she was forced to admit, that could be considered more powerful than their past relatives.

However, as she stated, they were the exception, not the norm.

**At least, that was the case for natural born half-bloods.**

Hera felt her ichor freeze in her veins as the implications of that statement slammed into her mind with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball smashing into a skyscraper.

"Oh _fuck_ no," she heard Apollo growl. Glancing at him, Hera noted that he was clasping the arms of his throne in a death grip, his knuckles white and his eyes burning like twin suns.

He understood what was said as well. But instead of horrified, he buried it under anger and rage.

Hera hadn't seen him that furious since the days of Hitler's 'Final Solution' and the experiments of Mengele.

**Both Kronos and Koios knew that a breeding plan was unfeasible. It would require power and influence that they just didn't have in their current state, so far removed from the realm of men. Not to mention that the Fates would no doubt bring the hammer down on the idea before it came to fruition.**

**The Fates had ensured the deaths of less powerful half-bloods than what the two Titans had planned. In one way or another.**

There was collective snort of disgust at the Fates, by both mortal and immortal alike. Those three crones had won no friends in the way they weaved the life threads of one and all.

**Instead they decided on something far more blasphemous and unnatural.**

**An Artificial Half-Blood.**

Muttered oaths and exclamations followed that statement. Murmurings of 'impossible!', 'Madness!' And 'Foolishness!' rang out. Hera herself was stunned silent.

What had just been spoken was completely impossible. A demi-god can only be born, not created. They were apart of nature as they were born from natural forces, I.e. gods, and as such cannot be brought about through by means that completely shatter the laws of nature.

Despite some of the stories of his birth, even Orion the Hunter had been naturally born child of Poseidon, born of a woman's womb. Pandora had been a creation brought to life, and thus was not a demi-god, thus the law did not apply. And the Dioscuri, Castor and Pollux, were both bastards of her husband's loins, whatever other foolish mortal story was spread.

An Artficial Demi-God just wasn't possible. Period.

Hera had an ill feeling that her perception of the world was going to be turned upside-down and inside-out.

**They had a possible plan on how to do it, but it would take time and experimentation, along with materials that, as they were, they had no access to.**

**And so they reached to the dregs of humanity. The murderers and rapists. The diseased and the savage. The corrupt and greedy. Speaking in their dreams, dangling their desires in front of them, provided that they performed a few small tasks.**

**They came like flies to honey.**

The flames flared in accordance with the music, the sound hitting their ears feeling like slime and scum, as the flames showed a bedraggled gathering of those with both rags and riches, man and woman, all of them with the same golden eyes as those above.

Hera had seen more putrid sights...but not too many.

**They had but simple commands. Obtain an object here, place an object there. Purchase a building. File some paperwork in a certain manner.**

The flame shifted, the bedraggled mortal's running to and fro, a large building slowly arising as the moved.

**All these little errands, so small and inconsequential when taken alone, but foreboding and ominous if one dared to look at the bigger picture, took over a decade to achieve, but it all came together as the Second World War kicked off, in a little town in Germany. The creation of a hidden laboratory.**

The building was now complete, tall and imposing and quite clearly gothic.

**They named it Nastrond. The villagers in the town below called 'Haus des Qual', the House of Agony.**

Hera felt her hackles rise. Somehow, she knew that horrors lay behind that name.

**And then they influenced their little puppets, the dregs and leftovers, to perform one final task.**

**A sacrifice. A summoning.**

Hera felt the chill in her spine return as the lyre sang of blood and faux merriment, of dreams become nightmares. The figures of the dregs of men gathered in a circle in the flames, their motions lopsided and staggering, as if drunk and intoxicated.

Hera knew better though, but couldn't help but hope she was wrong.

The figures swayed in the circle, as if chanting, performing an art that was forbidden since before the current Age. Then those figures seemed to stop, drawing something from various parts of themselves. From boots and belts, from sleeves and pockets, all of them produced a knife of shining metal.

And slit their own throats.

Hera heard her eldest brother swear quietly as gouts of red flame, representing the life giving fluid that the figures supposedly contained, erupted from the gaping holes in their necks, the flame projecting this image running red until it filled the entire 'screen', swirling chaotically.

None could speak as the picture before them, shocked and horrified in the case of many, but also stunned and grim in the case of others. Hera and the rest of the Council knew well what this kind of rite could produce.

The crimson swirling suddenly spun in the other direction, another colour dying itself on the burning screen. An ice blue slowly began to over take the crimson, seeming to shove it out of the way as the blue began to take on a familiar form, one that they had seen in flesh and ichor earlier that day.

**And the Titan of the North walked the world once more.**

"Styx!" Swore Hera's brothers in unison at the revelation. A sentiment that was shared by all who saw the image.

* * *

><p>Poseidon glared heavily at the Sacred Flame and the image shown within it as the daughter of his nephew continued her vision story. The Northern Lord had given his son enough grief this night and the Lord of the Sea wasn't happy to look upon the cold hearted Titan's visage anymore this night. This anger hid the apprehension and uneasiness of the girl's revelations.<p>

A Titan, one of the First Generation, had been free of the grasp of Tartarus since the Second World War. No matter how he looked at it, there was nothing positive for Olympus in that scenario. What horrors had this one wrought while hidden away from the eyes of Olympus? What despicable deeds had he perpetrated under their very noses?

Young Melody continued on, striking the strings in a matter befitting the current mood of unease.

**Koios wasted no time. He had the place. He had the equipment. He even had the power** **due to the sacrifice of the deluded mongrels.**

**All he needed...were the proper samples.**

Poseidon didn't like the sound of that.

He disliked the next image shown in the flame even more.

The flames spun and twirled, turning a ghostly emerald green, more like smoke and vapour than the limbs of the firey element, as the scene became one of horror and sadism.

The flames formed rows upon rows of slightly off vertical tables, each surrounded by instruments befitting a mad scientist. Beakers of bubbling fluids, rows of medical instruments sharper than a griffin's claws, syringes large enough to make even Apollo the Healer wince.

And upon those vertical tables, strapped firmly, were what seemed to victims of torture.

Ribs could be clearly counted, bellies and cheeks were sunken, deprived of life giving sustenance. These bodies, for they could barely could be called alive let alone human, wearing only the barest of rags for modesty, were covered in precise scars, each of them uniform in width, indicating the precision of the instrument's wielder. What was even more frightening was the fact that we're not inflicted out of malice, but out of cold logic. There was no passion or hatred or even emotion in those thick white lines, as if the tormented didn't even consider the victim human.

It was science at it's worst. Order taken to the very extreme.

Man, woman or child. Black or white. Oriental or Caucasian. The entire spectrum of the race of Men was represented on those cold tables, under those sharp knives wielded by unfeeling scientists.

The lyre's string sounded discordant and harrowing, as if emitting the screams of those poor wretches that were unable to voice themselves.

The depravity of humanity was shown for all to see. And among them walked the Lord of the North, inspecting every station, his face inscrutable, his eyes unfeeling and cold as the element he ruled.

Poseidon faintly heard the retching of numerous half-bloods at the sight, a glance showing that his sisters and Aphrodite were not fair off doing so either.

The men of the Council, along with Athena and Artemis, only turned hard, their faces flinty as they gripped the arms of their thrones, making them groan beneath their angered grasp.

**Hitler's Final Solution was the perfect veil under which the Titan could move, plucking the choice of men and women from under the noses of the Camp's guards for the experiments.**

**Koios knew that a half-blood could not be grown in womb. The results would take too long to manifest and there was the high chance that the desired outcome would not be what he would get, making all his efforts a waste of time and resources.**

**So, he decided to come at it another way.**

**Something that he called Soul Distortion.**

"What!?" Roared Hades, almost leaping out of his throne, held there only by his wife's firm grip, his face was a picture of pure rage, disgust and outright horror.

Poseidon fully shared his sentiments. Even if he didn't quite understand what was being implied, as souls were outside of his Domain, he knew that anything that had to do with altering the very soul of someone or something was a massive taboo. The fact that Koios and Kronos even contemplated such a thing, let alone carried it out, was a measure of the madness that Tartarus had imparted to them when they dwelled in that darkened realm.

**It had been proven that an ordinary mortal could be directly blessed or cursed by divine entities, which was when a piece of divine essence was imparted to said mortal in order to produce the effect, so Koios thought he could take it a step further.**

**Using the chosen mortals, he directly imbued a mortal with divine essence, ichor, stolen from various deities, among the Council or not, and attempted to merge the ichor with the victim's soul.**

Hades was practically snarling, the earth trembling beneath his rage, as the explanation went on. Athena and Apollo also looked ready to spit nails, such was their own temper. Indeed, all of the Council and the rest of those in attendance were filled with a horrified anger and a sense of violation.

Poseidon gripped his Trident, his symbol of power, tightly enough for his knuckles to go white.

This went beyond madness and blasphemy. This- he couldn't find the right word to express his feelings on it - act didn't just break the Ancient Laws, it shattered them and ignored them utterly. The soul was, supposedly, inviolate to all beings, mortal or immortal. The fact that his father in the most recent Titanomachy had wielded a scythe capable of cutting the soul and essence of anything was hovering on the verge of breaking that Law.

But to directly attempt to change the unchangeable? What in the name of Chaos were they thinking?! More importantly, why hadn't the Fates stepped in long before now?

**Unfortunately for all involved, the attempts never quite succeeded.**

The lyre played out a soul wrenching wail as the flames shifted and blurred, showing a single poor soul strapped to one of the obscene tables, the frost blue flame figure of Koios performing arcane gestures over the doomed soul as what seemed to be a golden liquid was pumped into the victim intravenously.

Only a small amount had entered the veins of the unlucky mortal before said mortal's back arched like a bow, sunken mouth wide as he silently wailed in complete agony, as splits appeared in his skin, gushing forth blood and ash and golden fire, before erupting into a human pillar of flame, his body immolating itself under the strain of divine power entering an unsuited body.

**Again and again Koios attempted the same feat, hoping to get it right, but no matter how he diluted any dosage, no matter how weak the 'donor' deity was, mortals of any stripe could not handle the divine power of ichor in their bodies and souls. Even clear sighted mortals suffered the same fate and he did not dare try to attempt such a thing on a half-blood or close legacy, not willing to brave the eyes of Olympus so soon.**

Poseidon felt something unclench in him at those words, a small burden of his back. As terrible as what Koios had done, he couldn't help but be the slightest bit guilty and relieved.

Relieved, that myriad of young ones that made up his dysfunctional family, in one way or another, were not directly harmed by the sadistic ice cube he was forced to call uncle.

Guilty, in that he felt said relief, implying that half-bloods and others of such unique heritage, were of more worth than that of any of pure mortal descent. He would have to be careful of those thoughts, it was a slippery slope he didn't want to go down.

Though, admittedly, when one was a God, powerful beyond human belief and very long lived, it was rather difficult not to look down on the mortals they ruled over in one form or another.

The Sacred Flame shifted again as the golden lyre in the girl's hands sound a slow funeral march, the flames darkening until they became an ashen grey. Vague human shapes threw something through the air, landing it on a faded pile. It took Poseidon a moment to realise what the pile was, what the object had been, and couldn't help but grimace tightly.

A pile of corpses was never a nice thing to look at, no matter how faded or distorted.

**Time marched on and the bodies piled up. Thanks to his magics, Koios was able to conceal the town and the lab from Allied forces when they finally managed to invade Germany, allowing him and his aides to work unimpeded and uninterrupted.**

**Though, with the Camps destroyed, he no longer had a generous pool of specimens to choose from and often had to resort to mortal aid to obtain said specimens, unwilling to dare Olympus' gaze.**

The flames whirled, briefly showing a child and mother walking on an empty street. As they passed an alley, hands exploded from the shadows, grasping them tightly and silencing them with a hand over their mouths, before yanking them into the darkness, never to be seen again.

**The dregs and despicable were more than willing to listen to his requests and accept his gold.**

**Over the course of the attempts, he had managed to come to an understanding of why the victims of the experiments all died when he tried to bind the power to their souls.**

**A being's soul, their animus, was immutable. Already considered complete and perfect, and thus would not accept any attempts to change or alter it, thus it seemed that the ambitions of both Koios and Kronos were doomed to be unattainable, the attempts little more than murder.**

"It _is _murder," Poseidon heard his elder brother growl, his voice sounding more like his loyal hound's than the voice of a man or God. The pale face of the Lord of the Underworld was set in a rictus of a snarl, hatred and venom burned in his dark eyes as they gazed at the images in the Sacred Flame. Persephone's tight grip on his arm was probably the only thing leashing his temper.

Poseidon could understand what his brother was feeling. To have your domain violated and mangled in such a way...it was one of the horrors of a God and it was often just the first step for an immortal to be vulnerable to Fading.

Thankfully, he knew his brother well. As hard-headed as they came, but also the smartest of the three of them (not that either he or Zeus would admit out loud), he would be able to weather this disgusting storm easily enough. He wouldn't bow beneath even a violation of his Domain as heinous as this.

Though Poseidon suspected that the Underworld was going to get a thorough house cleaning pretty soon. The fact that this had slipped through the cracks for so long was a big indication that something wasn't right in the world below.

**But still he tried.**

**Blessings to first bolster the specimens health and well-being. Merging with ichor over time. Merging whilst in the womb. These and hundreds of other possible avenues where explored over the decades.**

**All of them meeting with failure.**

The flames flared briefly, showing a stooped frost blue flame figure hunched over, scribbling notations in a thick book, while behind him two golden eyes glared down, radiating displeasure.

**Kronos was getting impatient. The idea had been proving to be a dead end with the resources they currently had and the time for the Titan's Kings opportunity to rise to the mortal realm himself was coming increasingly closer.**

**Kronos demanded results, his ire palpable to his own brother.**

**And then the Titan of the North received the biggest stroke of luck in the history of the planet.**

* * *

><p>Hades gritted his teeth, clenching them hard, as the lyre played, the flames of Hestia's domain dancing beneath those strings of starlight and sounds of the planetary dance. It had been a long time since he had heard the plucking of those particular strings, but his mind was too filled with anger and disgust to enjoy it as he had millennia ago.<p>

They had dared to defile his realm! They had dared to shatter the sacred accords set in place by Order and Chaos themselves! Sacrilege! Blasphemy!

If there was ever a time that he thought that his own father and his like-minded ilk were just misunderstood, it was erased utterly by the revelation that they had willingly messed with the sanctity of a soul.

This was taint to his Kingdom! A blight upon the world and his domain! Do they not know the possible consequences of this action? The repercussions to the cycle of life and death?!

By the First he will be summoning the Fates to demand an answer for this disgrace!

He glowered as the fire swirled again, creating a new picture.

It was what seemed to a simple hospital room, a bed, a monitor and a drip and little else.

It was the occupant of the bed that Hades focused on however.

A young man slept there, dark of hair and pale of skin, thin and slack arms rested at his sides, the lack of muscle tone showing that he had been there for quite some time, Hades' eyes narrowing as he saw what looked to be _words _carved into the back of the boy's right hand. On his brow, the Lord of the Dead could also see another scar, looking like a bolt of his baby brother's lightning.

**As per Koios' requests, the dregs of man abducted and took people for the experiments, those that wouldn't be missed. The poor, the homeless, the more innocent side of the gutter. Occasionally they also branched out to the old and, in some cases, the infirm.**

**It was in this case that the low life dregs unknowingly struck pay dirt.**

**Enter 'John Doe'. Name unknown. Age unknown. Nationality unknown. A complete mystery. Had simply been found unconscious on the ground by a hiking couple in Scotland and had never regained consciousness, remaining in a coma for years.**

The flames showed two shadowy figures, each of them with the golden eyes of greed, swiftly detaching the boy from the equipment, place him in a wheelchair and take him out.

**He wouldn't be missed.**

The lyre pounded a throbbing beat, a powerful deep double thud, like the beat of an immense heart, as the flames shifted and danced, unveiling the next act.

The figure of Koios now stood above the strapped form of the boy, a short teenager Hades could now guess, his hands dancing as spells poured from his icy lips.

**Koios, due to his need to be frugal with his experiments, lest he reveal himself before he was ready, performed a check on all the specimens before he experimented, scanning for any anomalies or differences that may prove to be either advantageous or disadvantageous.**

The strapped down boy glowed slightly, making the figure of Koios halt, tilting his head in slight curiosity, before the glow faded.

But only for a moment.

Hades flinched as the figure of the boy suddenly arched his back and energy and light exploded off him, tossing the Titan of the North away like he was a rag doll.

Even as he winced from the bright flare, a reaction shared by all who watched, Hades couldn't help but smirk. It might be petty but his bastard of an uncle deserved everything that was coming to him.

**The reaction he got from the young boy was far from expected, the Titan surprised and shocked at the reaction from this supposed comatose mortal.**

**Koios knew that there was more to the boy than met even his discerning eyes.**

The boy was now strapped upright, like all the previous victims of the delusional Titan's heinous experiments, but the beakers and drips were completely absent, the hunched form of Koios merely gazing at the boy speculatively, his eyes assessing and clinical.

**Koios immediately went to work on the boy, knowing something was different about him and was determined to figure out what.**

**And inside his barren chest, the cold light of diseased hope bloomed. Could this boy be the answer he was looking for? Could he be what he needed to bring his ultimate plan into fruition? He questioned himself.**

**It turned out he was right.**

Hades felt the pit of stomach grow icy and cold. Despite the vision story that the girl was providing, showing merely the past, Hades couldn't help but hope that she was wrong, that, sad and horrid as it may seem to many, that the boy would simply die like the others, preventing a threat to Olympus from possibly rising.

A mere glance at the stock still form of the masked slayer of Koios however plunged that hope into the abyss.

**To the scans and investigations of Koios, the boy was a marvel and unique.**

**What had tossed the Titan aside was the boy's own power lashing out from what it perceived as a threat.**

Hades rose an eyebrow. What power did she mean?

**The power of magic. Magic without divine influence.**

**Impossibly, the boy was a natural magic user, one outside of Hecate's influence.**

**No divine blood in his veins. No blessings or curses from either Men, Gods or Monsters.**

**Just a mere mortal with the inborn power of magic. And what power it was!**

Hades drew a sharp breath in shock, Hermes close behind, and the rest of the Council also looking shocked.

That should be impossible! No being would have magic without a link, no matter how tenuous and distant, blood or blessing or other, to a divine being! Without that link, they didn't have the Authority to cast spells and thus were unable to use it. Though this could be got around if someone used one of the Ancient Tongues, languages so old that were an Authority onto themselves.

Magic, in essence, could be defined as 'the manifestation of dreams onto reality'. Meaning that the practitioner had to believe, had to imagine, had to will, the spell into existence, know it's effects and how it would effect the environment. The words of a spell often just allowed one to open the door to one's power and let it emerge in a specific way.

In any case, magic was heavily linked to the Divine and the Gods.

To have someone with power to shape reality, even in a limited way, that was not of the Gods, or their predecessors, should of been outright impossible.

But it seemed impossible was the word of the day.

**Koios was ecstatic. Never before had he been able to acquire any magic user in his experiments. While many of such people lived on the fringes of society, barely tolerated as merely queer folk, the higher powers watched them more closely, Hecate in particular.**

**And Koios, for all his power, had no desire to tangle with such an unpredictable woman, one who's allegiances were, as then, uncertain and very territorial over her Domain.**

Hades snorted slightly, in unison with the rest of the Council. Only an idiot, or an arrogant fool, messed with the Queen of the Witches.

**However, just having magic, in whatever form it, and especially with the amount the boy had, no matter how alien to him it was, also created a small problem.**

Hades couldn't help but smirk. He could guess the problem.

**One with magic always had stronger souls, stronger wills, than the average garden variety mortal.**

**Power the boy might have in spades, but it was because of it that the boy would resist the attempt to merge with the ichor. He would just end up the same as the others, only he would last longer under the strain, roasting himself over a slow fire rather than turning himself into a charred skeleton almost immediately.**

**At least, that is what would have happened had it not been for a second unique characteristic that had Koios crowing with triumph, knowing with absolute certainty that this boy was the perfect recipient, that the young man would be the Bane of Olympus. The Fenrir.**

Hades didn't like the sound of this. Even if he knew it had happened, the mere existence of the standing lad proving that it had succeeded, he couldn't exactly fathom what could have possibly allowed Koios to succeed in this blasphemy.

The soul was immutable and unchanging, just as the girl had stated before, and would resist any attempt to do so. For Koios to, feasibly, succeed, the victim's soul would have...had to...be...

...

...

Hades eyes snapped wide in utter horror and shock, jerking his head to stare at the masked boy with a dreadful intensity, seeing more than just the surface and the skin, his sight delving into the spirit of the boy.

Only to recoil in shock at what he saw, his pale face becoming almost translucent, an action that none of the rest of his peers missed.

He could stare vacantly into mid-air, barely taking in the words the girl spoke, as he tried to wrap his mind around what he had seen.

**When Koios had previously attempted the merging of ichor into a mortal's soul, he had to fight the normal resistance, like an inflexible barrier around the core of the soul, pushing through and breaking it to try and change the base make up of the victim's spirit. **

**Unfortunately, the breaking of this barrier resulted in a cascade failure that eliminated the existence, aka killing, of the specimen.**

**However, this boy, this strange young man, had something that all other mortals, demi-god or not, didn't.**

Hades could only watch numbly as the flames twisted and surged to show the cause of his own shock.

The boy was once strapped upright, his chest laid bare, and directly where his heart would be, was a massive wound, the size of hades own fist, just below a circular burn like scar, one that made many of those watching draw in a sharp breath, become pale faced or try desperately to keep down their most recent meal.

The ugly and vile wound looked like a web of cracks one would see in a window, jagged lightning spidering and and branching of from a shiny patch of withered flesh, which looked as if the very life was torn out of it, leaving it in it's current twisted state.

Hades knew that the comparison was more accurate than many would have thought.

**The barrier around the sleeping boy's core self...was non-existent.**

Hades could feel his peers shoot upward in their thrones, hear their eyes widen in absolute shock, as those words passed the lips of the daughter of Apollo.

He couldn't blame them, he had the exact same reaction and was still coming to terms with it.

**Somehow, somewhen, the barrier around the boy's soul had been damaged heavily before being almost completely stripped away, mere remnants, like broken gossamer threads, remaining. Generally, when something like this happened, the victim died, their cores freed from the force that bound it to living flesh.**

**And yet the boy clearly still lived, his soul not even straining against those remnant threads, willingly dwelling within the cage of flesh and blood.**

**It was impossible. It was unheard of. It went directly against the cycle of life and death.**

Hades snorted slightly in agreement.

**It was perfect.**

**Like mana from heaven, the opportunity, the chance for Koios to fulfil his task had fallen into his lap.**

**And he wasn't going to waste it.**

* * *

><p>Melody bowed her head, hiding the unshed tears in her eyes, as her fingers slowly plucked the strings of Lyra, the one of the only good things that came of her...<em>acquaintance <em>with the Northern Lord, a slow dirge, one of sorrow, grief and helpless rage, emanating from those divine strings, even as she let her mind drift towards the Sacred Flame at her back, projecting a picture in her mind for the flames themselves to project for her august audience.

She felt the surge of heat as the flames changed to her will. The young boy, her future brother, still strapped to one of those horrid tables, now had instruments attached to him. Two short rubber tubes, tipped with a large needle head, were visibly inserted into the withered flesh of the boy, gently piercing the heart beneath. The other end of each tube was attached to a vial of fluid. One was a mix of gold and silver in colour, clearly ichor mixed with something else (at least in the eyes of her audience. Vision stories were more than just memories, sometimes the images shown were subjective and relative, thus they were called stories, not histories.). The other vial was similar, but a gold and black instead.

She swallowed a moment. The next few parts would be a deciding factor, a reveal that she had no doubt would shock them all, immortal or mortal. She had glimpsed the Rich One moments ago, his jerky movement and shock when he had examined her brother showing that he had at least a small inkling of what was coming.

However, it was not the reactions of the eldest of the Big Three she was worried about.

She began to recite the tale once more.

**Koios didn't immediately attempt to bond ichor to the boy's soul. He already knew, in his blackened heart, that the attempt would succeed. However he also knew that he would only be able to do it once. He would have to make sure he did it right, get the biggest 'bang for his buck' as it were.**

**He carefully looked through the samples of ichor that had been painstakingly obtained over the years. Minor gods and Olympians were both represented in that rack of golden blood.**

**He would have to choose carefully. The creation of Project Fenrir was all based on the creation of a Godslayer and, as such, he would need to choose the blood of an immortal that could impart abilities and skills to aid in that endeavour.**

Melody ignored the uncomfortable shifting of the Council, focusing on showing a new image in the flames.

The flame coiled and writhed, heating her back, as the familiar blue figure of Koios appeared beside the strapped and insensate boy. A wave of his hands and the vials emptied themselves into the tube and thus directly into boy's heart.

**Koios thought over the qualities needed for a Godslayer, the list growing endlessly as more ideas came to him, and eventually parsed it down to handful of requisites.**

**Physical Might. The best shot, if such a thing could be implied in a battle against a deity, that a mortal had of defeating a deity was in physical combat, this a strong, hardy and swift body was needed. In a physical form, God's were limited in their power, further still when fighting a mortal and, much as he hated to admit it, Koios knew that the pride that deities had could easily be turned in a mortal's favour.**

Melody smirked as she notice Poseidon gave his own smirk to a suddenly glowering God of War. Seems that Ares still smarted from the, conditional, defeat he had against a certain son of the Sea God.

**Stealth. The Godslayer was meant to be an assassin, not a warrior, and thus this was the most important of attributes needed. Neither Kronos or Koios would care how their younger generation died, just so long as they did. Even if the Fenrir was powerful, Koios knew that the Gods would be more powerful yet...but only if they had the chance to bring it to bear. Why waste an hour clashing with a powerful enemy face to face when you can become victorious with a simple dagger to the neck when they were unaware?**

Melody scoffed mentally at the slight distaste from the face of a certain hypocritical Goddess at the mention of such a tactic.

The wise goddess should know that there was no honour in warfare, even if she publically advocated it. Were Odysseus and Diomedes honourable at Troy when they spied? Melody didn't think so, but they made the wisest decision to be able to end the war.

The goddess should know that battle strategy and honour were mutually exclusive.

**The last attribute was that of Precision, of Skill. Even if he was stealthy, even if he was physically powerful, there was no guarantee he would able to defeat beings who had been skilled in battle since before the birth of the first man. He would need the knowledge to use weapons, the instinct to know when to use them to achieve the best effect, to know when and where to strike the killing blow.**

**These three were the central attributes that Koios thought the boy would need.**

**It was difficult to choose, but choose he did from the samples he had obtained. But it wasn't just one ichor sample he chose.**

**It was two.**

Melody saw the eyes of the wise goddess suddenly widen, her face thunderstruck, as realisation shot home. Her grey eyes flickered briefly to her half sister and to her eldest uncle as the majority of the Council, save for a wide-eyed Hades (who still seemed to be a little out of it), frowned.

It seemed that she did indeed earn her domain of Wisdom...as long as her hubris didn't get in the way.

* * *

><p>Artemis frowned heavily as she watched the Sacred Flame churn and writhe beneath the song notes plucked from the young maiden's, her niece, lyre.<p>

The revelations so far had been almost mind-blowing and just as sickening. Artemis was more disgusted than ever to be related Koios, what he had done, of his own will, was beyond the pale.

She only wished she could have been the one to land the killing blow instead of that boy.

She glared briefly at the stock still boy. She didn't know when, where or how he got a hold of that blade, but if it wasn't revealed to her, there would be more blood spilled this night. No mere boy should be able to hold that weapon, not without serious repercussions, but, in some way, the boy held it as if it were a part of his body and wielded it as naturally as it were his own limb, a state that many warriors, save for the children of war gods, rarely attained without copious _decades_ of live battle experience.

Perhaps the boy was infused with the ichor of Ares? She shook her head briefly. No. Despite the skill with which he wielded the blade, she was certain he was no child of Ares, artificially or not. He was far too relaxed, yet ready, and calm to be like the pig.

In fact, she frowned even heavier, if she focused on him, she could the stirrings of nature and the wild primal feel of a beast.

She was drawn away from her musings as her niece continued speaking, the strings playing something that Artemis could describe as 'a dark rebirth'.

**Koios wasn't sure what had made him do this, the fates of the mortals used to integrate one sample being quite clear, but something in him, deep down, told him it would work.**

The form Koios appeared once more, hands extended towards the restrained boy, and was quite clearly chanting words arcane.

Slowly, two energies began to emerge from the 'shatter' scar on the boy's chest, displacing the now unneeded needles and tubes from the body.

One energy was the deepest black, of the abyss, of darkness, of the lack of light beneath the earth, that slowly began to engulf the right half  
>of the boy's body, crawling up and down the torso simultaneously and extending to the other limbs in the same hemisphere.<p>

The other was a bright silver, glinting like light striking a blade or a claw just before it struck and killed, that engulfed the left side, doing the same the black energy.

The energies wrapped around the boy, swallowing him completely from sight, before expanding to create a sphere, one split vertically into silver and black halves, the energies pulsing and writhing along the surface.

Artemis couldn't help but be both drawn to and repulsed by the sphere.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to put the pieces together. The sphere was not just a sphere.

It was an egg.

**Combining the essences of two deities, one God and one Goddess, into the the poor man's unwilling and unknowing form, a new being arose, reborn in this world.**

The egg pulsed and surged, energies rippling across it and surges of power, of lightning, sparked from it, tearing down and destroying various bits and pieces of furniture and equipment. Beakers shattered, torturous medical instruments melted into slag, worn leather straps burning. Operating tables were flung away and the very ground was torn, seemingly raked and tossed like the hand of an angry God.

The image of Koios ignored these incidental little distractions, focusing his cold gleaming eyes only on the pulsing egg and his own words, his hands gesturing more energetically and more urgently, sensing the end of a long fought battle and now the end was in sight.

Artemis could only bite her lip in an effort to keep from yelling at the burning screen, at the mockery of her Domain. This was not natural, this went against the Laws of the world, of nature. Such a thing should never have existed, never had even been conceived of even in the wildest nightmares of the most depraved.

And yet the clear evidence that this abomination of an idea had succeeded stood calmly, his back to the flames, as if he didn't even care.

Artemis was filled with an unthinking rage as she glared at the boy. How could he just stand there, unmoved, as the world was brought to a halt by the revelation of this violation, this _rape, _of the natural order of things?!

Does he not understand the possible repercussions that this could have?!

She shook her head, as if disbelieving, holding her forehead with a trembling hand. There was something clearly wrong with that boy, even beyond the fact that he had been subject to an experiment that even the most detached of Athena's children would cringe at.

On the screen of flame, the egg pulsed, expanding and contracting, repeatedly, the moment separating the two actions growing shorter and shorter.

**A being of power.**

The egg cracked, a line splitting it just off the vertical and stopping halfway down.

**A being created to kill.**

Another crack and split. The egg probably needed only two more blows.

Artemis felt a trembling of horrifying anticipation. Her niece was now sitting straight up, looking directly into the Council's faces, her face harsh. Artemis somehow knew that she was about to reveal the 'parents' of this mortal boy.

A ball of ice formed in her gut for no apparent reason.

**A being formed of Death...**

The Council rocked back at the words, heads turning to see an even paler than usual Hades, the eldest of the Big Three's eyes burning with a crimson fire, even as his son and wife also paled. The Campers also looked stunned themselves

Artemis shivered softly. If the 'father' of the boy was Hades, it explained, at least slightly, the power the boy had. As a child of the Big Three, by however means, it was expected that he would be no slouch in that department, disregarding his original power and what he had 'inherited' from his maternal parent.

Koios had made a good choice, however much she didn't wish to admit it. Hades line did have many capabilities that could aid an assassin.

Though who could the 'mother' be?

The cracking of the egg on the screen was almost ignored completely as all stared at Hades.

Except for one.

Feeling eyes on her, Artemis twisted her head from the slowly building rage of Hades, turning to meet blue eyes similar to her twin's.

The cold feeling got colder, like liquid nitrogen was in her stomach, as a dawning possibility emerged in the mind of the Goddess of the Moon. Her mind tried to reject the idea, seeing it as impossible.

But the next words of her niece threw her rejections to the side as she kept her eyes locked with her.

**...and of the Hunt.**

The world exploded into yells as a brief moment elapsed, during which the egg on the screen exploded with a flare of power, shattering the heinous vessel.

Artemis could do nothing but stare in utter and complete shock, hearing but not comprehending the roars of her family and her Hunters, at the screen as a new figure emerged from the egg, hatching into a new world in a new form.

Shorter than the victim, the new being's eyes were a shining emerald green, spectral and eerie and slitted like a beast's, staring around him in puzzlement, uncaring of the nude perfection of the pre-teen body. One that was packed with dense and toned muscle, and sharp features, looking like a wolf on a hunt.

Artemis could only stare, her mind trying to deny it but, now that she had been told, clearly feeling the connection, her connection, to the still stock still boy.

Faintly, she heard the last words of her niece before blackness over took her.

**A being made to slay even gods, made from an unholy union of Hades and Artemis.**

**The Fenrir.**

* * *

><p><em>Well folks, that is another chapter down. I originally was going to make this one big chapter, but I instead decided to split it in half so I could post something for you guys sooner.<em>

_Sorry for the lack of action, but the next chapter won't be much better as we explore Fenrir's early years._

_As always, please leave a review._

Peace Out,

kujikiri21


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